CIHM 
Microfiche 
Series 
(l\/lonographs) 


\CfAH 

Collection  de 
microfiches 
(monographies) 


Canadian  Inathuta  for  Hittorieal  MIeroraproductiona  /  Inatitut  Canadian  da  mieroraproductiona  hiatoflqiiaa 


995 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  technique  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  tias  attempted  to  obtain  ttie  l)est  original 
copy  available  (or  filming.  Features  of  this  copy  which 
may  be  bibliographically  unique,  which  may  alter  any  of 
the  images  in  the  reproduction,  or  which  may 
significantly  change  the  usual  method  of  filming  are 
checked  below. 


D 


D 


Coloured  covers  / 
Couveture  de  couleur 


I     I  Covers  damaged  / 

' — '  Couvert  jre  endommagte 

I     I  Covers  restored  and/or  laminated  / 

— '  Couverture  restaur^  et/ou  pellicula 

I     I  Cover  title  missing /Le  litre  de  couverture  manque 

I     I  Coloured  maps/ Cartes  gtegraphiques  en  couleur 

I     I  Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 

Encie  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

I     I  Cokxired  plates  and/or  illustrations  / 

— '  Planches  el/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

I     I  Bound  with  other  material  / 

' — '  RellA  avec  d'autres  documents 


Only  edition  avaiWe  / 
Seule  Mttkm  disponible 


FTf     Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
^^^      along  interior  margin  /  La  reliure  serrde  peut 

causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la  distorsk>n  le  long  de 

la  marge  int^rieure. 

I  I  Blank  leaves  added  during  restoratkxs  may  appear 
' — '  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these  have 
been  omitted  from  filming  /  II  se  peut  que  certaines 
pages  blanches  ajout^s  tors  dune  restauration 
apparaissent  dans  le  texte,  mais.  lorsque  cela  dtait 
passible,  ces  pages  n'ont  pas  Ha  filmtes. 


L'Institut  a  microfilm*  le  meilleur  examplLire  qu'il  lui  a 
6t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details  de  cet  exem- 
plaire  qui  sent  peut-§tre  uniques  du  point  de  vue  bibii- 
ographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier  une  image  reproduite, 
ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une  modifications  dans  la  m«h- 
ode  normale  de  filmage  sont  indiquis  ei-dessous. 

j     I      CokJured  pages/ Pages  de  couleur 

I     I     Pages  damaged/ Pages  endommag*es 

I     I     Pages  restored  and/or  laminated  / 
' — '     Pages  restaur«es  et/ou  pellk»iltes 

ni     Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed  / 
Pages  dScotorSes,  tachet^es  ou  piquSes 

I     [     Pages  detached/ Pages  d«tach*es 

I  •[     Showthrough  /  Transparence 

I     j      Quality  of  print  varies  / 

' — '      Qualite  inegale  de  I'impresskHi 

I     I     Includes  supplementary  material  / 

Comprend  du  materiel  supplementaire 

I  y/f  Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
— '  slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image  /  Les  pages 
totalement  ou  parttellement  obscurcies  par  un 
feuillet  d'enata,  une  pelure,  etc.,  ont  Hi  filmtes 
a  nouveau  de  fa;on  a  obtenir  la  mellleure 
image  possible. 

I  I  Opposing  pages  with  varying  colouration  or 
' — '  discolourations  are  filmed  twk:e  to  ensure  the 
best  possible  image  /  Les  pages  s'opposant 
ayant  des  colorations  variables  ou  des  dteol- 
orations  sont  film^es  deux  fois  afin  d'obtenir  la 
meilleur  Image  possible. 


D 


AddHnnal  comments  / 
Commentaires  suppKmentaires: 


This  item  it  f  itmad  at  ttit  rtduction  ratio  chackad  below/ 

Ca  docunMnt  ait  f  ilmi  au  uu>  da  rMuction  indiqui  ci-dattow. 

lox  14X  tnx 


20X 


2ix 


28  X 


D 


Th*  copy  filmad  h«ra  hu  baan  raproduead  thanki 
to  tha  ganaroaity  of: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


L'axamplaira  fllmi  fut  raproduit  grlca  t  it 
gAntroiit*  da: 

Blbllotheque  natlonale  du  Canada 


Tha  imagas  appaaring  hora  ara  tha  baat  quality 
poatlbia  eonaidaring  tha  condition  and  lagibility 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  kaoping  with  tha 
filming  contract  apacificationa. 


Original  copiaa  in  printad  papor  covar*  ara  flimad 
baginning  with  tha  front  covar  and  anding  on 
tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad  or  illuatratad  impraa- 
■ion,  or  tha  back  covar  whan  appropriata.  All 
othar  original  copiaa  ara  filmad  baginning  on  tha 
firit  paga  with  a  printad  or  illuatratad  impraa- 
aion,  and  anding  on  tha  iaat  paga  with  a  printad 
or  illuatratad  impraaaion. 


Tha  iaat  racordad  frama  on  aach  microfleha 
ahall  contain  tha  symbol  —^  (moaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  tha  tymboi  ▼  Imaaning  "END"), 
whichavar  appliaa. 


Lat  imagat  tuivanta*  ont  ttt  raproduitai  avac  la 
piua  grand  (oin,  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  nanat*  da  l'axamplaira  filmt,  at  an 
conformita  avac  laa  conditions  du  contrat  da 
fllmaga. 

Laa  axamplairaa  originaux  dont  la  couvartura  an 
papiar  aat  imprimta  sont  filmii  an  commandant 
par  la  pramiar  plat  at  an  tarminant  loit  par  la 
darnitra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprcinia 
d'impraaalon  ou  d'illuatration,  soit  par  la  lacond 
plat,  talon  ia  cat.  Tout  laa  autrat  axamplairaa 
originaux  sont  filmaa  an  commandant  par  la 
pramiAra  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'lmpraaaion  ou  d'illuatration  at  an  tarminant  par 
la  darnitra  paga  qui  comporta  una  talla 
amprainta. 

Un  daa  aymbolaa  auivanta  tpparaitra  aur  la 
darniira  imaga  da  chaqua  microficha,  talon  la 
caa:  la  tymbola  — » tignifia  "A  SUIVRE",  la 
aymbola  ▼  tignifia  "FIN". 


Mapa,  plataa.  charta,  ate.  may  ba  filmad  at 
diffarant  raduction  ratioa.  Thoaa  too  larga  to  ba 
antiraly  includad  in  ona  axpoaura  ara  filmad 
baginning  in  tha  uppar  iaft  hand  cornar.  laft  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  aa  many  framaa  aa 
raquirad.  Tha  following  diagrama  illuatrata  tha 
mathod: 


Laa  cartaa.  planchaa.  tablaaux.  ate.  pauvant  itra 
filmta  i  daa  taux  da  reduction  difftrantt. 
Lortqua  la  documant  aat  trap  grand  pour  iira 
raproduit  an  un  taul  clich*.  ii  aat  film*  t  partir 
da  I'angla  tup^riaur  gauch"  da  gaucha  i  droita. 
at  da  haut  an  baa,  an  pranant  la  nombra 
d'imagaa  nacaaaaira.  Laa  diagrammat  tuivantt 
illuatrant  la  mathoda. 


1  2  3 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

MldOCOrY   MSOIUTION   TBT   CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  T6ST  CHART  No.  2) 


la  |2.8 

1^ 

|2.0 

ms. 

1.6 


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/.y//' 


POEMS 


BY 


VRLPIS  G.D.ROBERTS 


KR,  uuRDirrr  avd  i^'»vt   vnv 

,  W   VuRK.  BOSTON  CHI.     n-^ 


:i 


■<'^^/..,  4. '  ^i'^'^f^r^^y^ 


:HARLES  G.  D.  ROBERTS 


POEMS 


■Y 


SILVER,  BURDETT  AND  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK.  BOSTON  CHICAGO 


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OUOK,  AND  OtHBH  POBMSI 

Copyilcht,  iMo,  bjr  ChatlM  G.  D.  Robtrti. 

Itt  r  <«*•  ToMUi 
Copyrl(htf  iSW,  by  D.  Lothrop  A  Compuy. 

SoNc»  OP  TMB  Common  Dav  : 
Copyright,  1I93,  by  Loogmsns,  Gi««ii  A  Compnay. 

Ths  Book  op  thb  Nativb  : 
Copyricbt,  1896,  by  Lanwa,  Wolff*  A  Corapuy. 

Nmr  YoBK  Nocturmu  i 
Copyriibt,  itgt,  by  Laanon,  Wolffs  A  Compaay. 


COPTKIGHT,  I90I1    BV 

SILVER,  BURDETT  *  COMPANY 


J 


To 
G.  £.  A.  R. 


prcfatots  Wotc 

Of  all  my  verse  written  before  the  end  of  1898  this 
iilection  contains  everything  that  I  care  to  preserve. 

C.  G.  D.  R. 

tcimber,  tgot 


11— A 


l.—l 


Contents 


1.— AVE  !  AN  ODE  FOR  THE  SHELLEY  CENTENARY 

(i89») ;  3 

[L-THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE : 

To  G.  B.  R.   (Dedication  of  The  Book  of  the  Native)       .  15 

Autochthon j, 

Kinship __ 

Origins ■  ,g 

"  O  Thou  who  Bidd'st  " ,„ 

An  April  Adoration 20 

An  Oblation ^^ 

The  Jonquil !  22 

Resurrection 22 

Afoot      .        .                                          '  ,. 
23 

The  Quest  of  the  Arbutus j. 

The  Pipes  of  Pan .'25 

In  the  Orchard 27 

TheHeal-AlI          .        .         ......  2^ 

A  Song  of  Growth 28 

Butterflies        •■...'.'..,  3a 

Recompense 2 

Epitaph  for  a  Husbandman -o 

Epitaph  for  a  Sailor  Buried  Ashore .        ...  31 

The  Little  Field  of  Peace  31 

At  Tide  Water                 .......  ^2 

Renewal 

••...,  33 

A  Breathing  Time 3, 

The  Unsleeping 3. 

Recessional     .......  ^e 

Earth's  Complines 3^ 

The  Solitary  Woodsman 3» 

The  Frosted  Pane            30 

The  Skater              •■••.!.!  39 


CONTENTS 


Two  Spheres  . 

Immanence 

Ascription 

A  Child's  Prayer  at  Evening 


III.-SONGS  OF  THE  COMMON  DAY;    A  SONNET  SE- 

Prologue—-  •  Across  the  fog  the  moon  lies  fair  " 

The  Furrow    . 

The  Sower 

The  Waking  Earth 

Fredericton  in  May-Time 

Tlie  Cow  Pastu  :    . 

When  Milking-Tirae  is  Done 

Frogs 

The  Herring  Weir 

The  Salt  Flats 

The  Fir  Woods 

The  Pea-Fields 

The  Mowing  . 

Where  the  Cattle  Come  to  Drink 

Burnt  Lands   . 

The  Clearing 

The  Summer  Pool 

Buckwheat 

The  Cicada  in  the  Firs 

In  September 

A  Vesper  Sonnet     . 

The  Potato  Harvest 

The  Oat-Threshing 

The  Autumn  Thistles' 

Indian  Summer 

The  Pumpkins  in  the  Com 

The  Winter  Fields 

In  an  Old  Bam 

The  Stillness  of  the  Frost 

Midwinter  Thaw     , 

The  Flight  of  the  Geese 


ri 


CONTENTS  ix 

—MISCELLANEOUS  SONNETS  :  rAoi 

A  Collect  for  Dominion  Day            ...  6% 

The  Slave  Woman g. 

The  Train  among  the  Hills     ....  64 

^^ .'        !        ;  64 

Mist r* 

Tides J 

dtw  ....:::::;« 

Moonlight       ......  66 

The  Deserted  City 67 

Khartoum ^ 

Blomidon go 

The  Night  Sky        ...         ".'''  ^g 

In  the  Wide  Awe  and  Wisdom  of  the  Night     ...  69 

O  Solitary  of  the  Austere  Sky          .         .        .        .        !  60 

-BALLADS: 

The  Laughing  Sally ., 

The  Succour  of  Gluskip.     (A  Melicite  Legend)       .        .  75 

TheVengeanceof  Gluskap.    (                "                )  ^^ 
How  the  Mohawks  Set  out  for  Medoctec.     (A  Mclicile 

Legend) .^ 

Crossing  the  Brook jj 

The  Wood  Frolic  .  ■......%■, 

The  Tide  on  Tantramar 85 

Whitewaters            _q 

The  Forest  Fire ■        ■        ■  9i 

Marjory <il 

The  Keepers  of  the  Pass og 

Manila  Bay j^^ 

—NEW  YORK  NOCTURNES  ■ 

TheWeal „5 

In  the  Crowd ^^ 

Night  in  a  Dov  n-Town  Street          .         .         .         .         !  :o6 

At  the  Railway  Station ,0- 

Nocturnet  of  the  Honeysuckle— I ,08 

—II  .        .108 

My  Garden ,^8 

Presence  ... 

•••■•..  log 

Twilight  on  Sixth  Avenue ,  jo 


VII. 


CONTENTS 

The  Street  Lamps ""I 

In  Darkness    ...                        ~         '        '        '  : 

In  the  Solitude  of  the  City              .  in  j 

A  Nocturne  of  Exile        .        .                         "        '  ritl 

A  Street  Vigil                                   I 

New  Life        ■■'.'.'.',','  "*| 

A  Nocturne  of  Trysting          .        .                         '  J 

A  Nocturne  of  Spiritual  Love          ,        .                 '        '  ,,^| 
In  a  City  Room       ■..'..' 

On  the  Elevated  Railroad  at  I  loth  Street         .        .  "5  J 

At  thy  Voice  my  Heart    ....  J 

A  Street  Song  at  Night  .        .        .  .  '        i 

A  Nocturne  of  Consecration    .....  ii,{| 

-MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS: 
Kinsmen  Strong      .... 

Jonathan  and  John                                   "        '        •        ■  31 

Canada  ■....['''  "^t 

An  Ode  for  the  Canadian  Confederacy    .        .        '  ,3  J 

Canadian  Streams si 

A  Song  for  April     ...                           •         •         •  I 
The  Flocks  of  Spring      .!.'"' 

O  Clearest  Pool       .         .        .'        .                         '        '  '^  , 

The  Trout  Brook    ..!'""'"  '^3 
The  Atlantic  Cable          .!..'* 

Brooklyn  Bridge      •        .        .        .                "  '^ 

Out  of  Pompeii        ...                 •        •        •        .  331 

Actson '^1 

Marsyas  ....                 •        •        .        .  1361 

In  the  Afternoon     .        .  •              '*°l 

On  the  Creek           •....''  '*'| 

Tantramar  Revisited                        '*'! 

Salt    ■....'.:■■•  '*i 

Severance        ...  ■••■51 

The  Valley  of  the  Winding  Water  •     '50| 

Ebb  '5' 

A  Trysting  Song     ...  ••51 

Love's  Translator    .        .        .  •     '5'  I 

Grey  Rocks  and  Greyer  Sea '"I 

1541 


CONTENTS 


» 


A  Song  of  Chber Ijj 

A  Serenade irc 

Birch  and  Paddle.     (To  Bliss  Carman)    .  ,        .156 

J«')' !  158 

The  Cricket ,5, 

An  August  Woodroad 150 

Apple  Song     .         , ,60 

Before  the  i^reath  of  Storm 163 

The  Falling  Leaves         ••.....  162 

Aylesford  Lake l6j 

Beside  the  Winter  Sea 163 

The  Brook  in  February 16^ 

I« 164 

The  Silver  Thaw I6^ 

At  the  Drinking  Fountain ig^ 

The  Lily  of  the  Valley !  166 

The  Wild-Rose  Thicket .166 

The  Hawkbit !  167 

The  Hermit  Thrush i£j 

The  Nighthawk 168 

When  the  Clover  Blooms  Again 169 

The  Bird's  Song,  the  Sun,  and  the  Wind         ,  .170 

Oh,  Purple  Hang  the  Pods  ! ijo 

An  Evening  Communion i^o 

A  Wake-up  Song iji 

Sleepy  Man Ij2 

The  Stack  behind  the  Barn 173 

The  Farmer's  Winter  Morning Ij4 

In  the  Barn-yard's  Southerly  Comer                                  •  '75 

Bringing  Home  the  Cows 175 

The  Logs ,76 

Up  and  Away  in  the  Morning lyy 

Home,  Home  in  the  Evening 178 

Mothers lyn 

Brother  Cuthbert ,70 

The  Departing  of  GluskSp 183 

The  Lone  Wharf 183 

The  Banquet Ig^ 

The  Stirrup  Cup 18^ 


Xll 


CONTENTS 


t 


Life  and  Art  . 

Dream-Fellows 

The  Hermit    . 

The  Wrestler 

Beyond  the  Tops  of  Time 

VIII.— POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  1880: 

To  Revd.  G.  Goodridge  Roberts.     (Dedication  of 

and  Other  Poems  " 
To  the  Spirit  of  Song 
Orion 
Ariadne 
Memnon 

An  Ode  to  Drowsihood 
Ballade  of  the  Poet's  Thought 
Iterumne 
A  Blue  Blossom 
The  Maple 
An  Epistle  to  Bliss  Carman 


(September,  1878) 


Orion 


3l| 
Sll 
111 
3l| 
311 
3lJ 


f 

five! 

an  «£»«  for  tbe  SbellcB  aentenars  (1892) 


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( 
c 

1 

T 

O 

Y 
A 


Ave  ! 

Ab  Od*  for  the  Ccntoatjr; of  Shtlltyi  Birth 
I 

O  "AWQU'i-  meadows,  graisy  Tantramar, 
Wide  marshes  ever  washed  in  clearest  air, 

Whether  beneath  the  sole  and  spectral  star 
The  dear  severity  of  dawn  you  wear, 

Or  whether  in  the  joy  of  ample  day 
And  speechless  ecstasy  of  growing  June 

You  lie  and  dream  the  long  blue  hours  away 
Till  nightfall  comes  too  soon, 

Or  whether,  naked  to  the  unstarred  night, 

You  strike  with  wondering  awe  my  inward  sight,- 


You  know  how  I  have  loved  you,  how  my  dreamt 
Go  forth  to  you  with  longing,  though  the  years 

That  turn  not  back  like  your  returning  streams 
And  fain  would  mist  the  memory  with  tears 

Tnough  the  inexorable  years  deny 
My  feet  the  fellowship  of  your  deep  grass, 

O  er  which,  as  o  er  another,  tenderer  sky. 
Cloud  phantoms  drift  and  pass, — 

You  know  my  confident  love,  since  first,  a  child. 

Amid  your  wastes  of  green  I  wandered  wild. 

Ill 
Inconstant,  eager,  curious,  I  roamed; 
And  ever  your  long  reaches  lured  me  on; 


AVBI 

And  ever  o'er  my  feet  your  graiie*  foamed. 
And  in  my  eyei  your  far  horiiont  ihone. 

But  lometimei  would  you  (at  a  itillneu  fell 
And  on  my  pulse  you  laid  a  toothing  palm) 

Inttruct  my  eart  in  your  mott  tecret  tpell; 
And  tometiroet  in  the  calm 

Initiate  my  young  and  wondering  eyea 

Until  my  tpirit  grew  more  ttill  and  wue. 

IT 

Purged  with  high  thoughtt  and  infinite  desire 
1  entered  fearlest  the  most  holy  place, 

Received  between  my  lipt  the  secret  fire, 
The  breath  of  inspiration  on  my  face. 

But  not  for  long  these  rare  illumined  hours, 
The  deep  sr.rprise  and  rapture  not  for  long. 

Again  I  saw  the  common,  kindly  flowers, 
Again  I  heard  the  song 

Of  the  glad  bobolink,  whose  lyric  throat 

Pealed  Tike  a  tangle  of  small  bells  afloat. 


The  pounce  of  mottled  marsh-hawk  on  his  prey; 

The  flicker  of  sand-pipers  in  from  sea 
In  gusty  flocks  that  puffed  and  fled;  the  play 

Of  field-mice  in  the  vetches,— these  to  me 
Were  memorable  events.    But  most  availed 

Your  strange  unquiet  waters  to  engage 
My  kindred  heart's  companionship;  nOr  failed 

To  grant  this  heritage, — 
That  in  my  veins  forever  must  abide 
The  urge  and  fluctuation  of  the  tide. 

VI 

The  mystic  river  whence  you  take  your  name, 
River  of  hubbub,  raucous  Tantramar, 

Untamable  and  changeable  as  flame. 
It  called  me  and  compelled  me  from  afar, 


AVE  I 

Shaping  my  muI  with  its  impenoni  ttren. 

When  in  iti  gaping  channel  deep  withdrawn 
Its  wave*  ran  crying  of  the  wildemen 

And  winds  ana  star*  and  dawn, 
How  I  companioned  them  in  ipeed  lublima, 
Led  out  a  vagrant  on  the  hilii  of  Time! 


And  when  the  orange  flood  came  roaring  in 
From  Fundy'i  tumbling  troughs  and  tide-worn  cavea, 

While  red  Minudie's  flats  were  drowned  with  din 
And  rough  Chignecto's  front  oppugned  the  waves, 

How  blithely  with  the  refluent  foam  I  raced 
Inland  along  the  radiant  chasm,  exploring 

The  grcn  solemnity  with  boisterous  haste; 
M^  pulse  of  joy  outpouring 

To  visit  all  the  creeks  that  twist  and  shine 

From  Beaus^jour  to  utmost  Tormentine. 


vm 

And  after,  when  the  tide  was  full,  and  stilled 
A  little  while  the  seething  and  the  hiss. 

And  every  tributary  channel  filled 
To  the  brim  with  rosy  streams  that  swelled  to  kiss 

The  grass-roots  all  awash  and  goose-tongue  wild 
And  salt-sap  rosemary, — then  how  well  content 

I  was  to  rest  me  like  a  breathless  child 
With  play-time  rapture  spent, — 

Tr-  lapse  and  loiter  till  the  change  should  come 

And  the  great  floods  turn  seaward,  roaring  home. 


iz 


And  now,  O  tratiquil  marshes,  in  your  vast 

Serenity  of  vision  and  of  dream, 
Wherethrough  by  every  intricate  vein  have  passed 

With  joy  impetuous  and  pain  supreme 


AVE! 

The  sharp,  fierce  tides  that  chafe  the  shore*  of  earth 

In  endless  and  controUess  ebb  and  flow, 
Strangely  akin  you  seem  to  him  whose  birth 

One  hundred  years  ago 
With  fiery  succour  to  the  ranks  of  song 
Defied  the  ancient  gates  of  wrath  and  wrong. 


Like  yourj,  O  marshes,  his  compassionate  breast, 
Wherein  abode  all  dreams  of  love  and  peace, 

Was  tortured  with  perpetual  unrest. 

Now  loud  with  flood,  now  languid  with  release. 

Now  poignant  with  the  lonely  ebb,  the  strife 
Of  tides  from  the  salt  sea  of  human  pain 

That  hiss  along  the  perilous  coasts  of  life 
Beat  in  his  eager  brain; 

But  all  about  the  tumult  of  his  heart 

Stretched  the  great  calm  of  his  celestial  art. 


Therefore  with  no  far  flight,  from  Tantramar 
And  my  still  world  of  ecstasy,  to  thee, 

Shelley,  to  thee  I  turn,  the  avatar 
Of  Song,  Love,  Dream,  Desire,  and  Liberty; 

To  thee  I  turn  with  reverent  hands  of  prayer 
And  lips  that  fain  would  ease  my  heart  of  praise, 

Whom  chief  of  all  whose  brows  prophetic  wear 
The  pure  and  sacred  bays 

I  worship,  and  have  worshiped  since  the  hour 

V/hen  first  I  felt  thy  bright  and  chainless  power. 


xn 

About  thy  sheltered  cradle,  in  the  green 
Untroubled  groves  of  Sussex,  brooded  forms 

That  to  the  mother's  eye  remained  unseen, — 
Terrors  and  ardours,  passionate  hopes,  and  storms 

Of  fierce  retributive  fury,  such  as  jarred 
Ancient  and  sceptred  creeds,  and  cast  down  kings, 


AVE! 

And  oft  the  holy  cause  of  Freedom  maned 

With  lust  of  meaner  things, 
With  guiltless  blood,  and  many  a  frenzied  crime 
Dared  in  the  face  of  unforgetful  Time. 


The  star  that  bums  on  revolution  smote 
Wild  heats  and  change  on  thine  ascendant  sphere. 

Whose  influence  thereafter  seemed  to  float 
Through  many  a  strange  eclipse  of  wrath  and  fear, 

Dimming  awhile  the  radiance  of  thy  love. 
But  still  supreme  in  thy  nativity, 

All  dark,  invidious  aspects  far  above. 
Beamed  one  clear  orb  for  thee, — 

The  star  whose  ministrations  just  and  strong 

Controlled  the  tireless  flight  of  Dante's  song. 

XIV 

With  how  august  contrition,  and  what  tears 

Of  penitential,  unavailing  shame. 
Thy  venerable  foster-mother  hears 

The  sons  of  song  impeach  her  ancient  name. 
Because  in  one  rash  hour  of  anger  blind 

She  thrust  thee  forth  in  exile,  and  thy  feet 
Too  soon  to  earth's  wild  outer  ways  consigned, — 

Far  from  her  well-loved  seat. 
Far  from  her  studious  halls  and  storied  towers 
And  weedy  Isis  winding  through  his  flowers. 


And  thou,  thenceforth  the  breathless  child  of  change, 
Thine  own  Alastor,  on  an  endless  quest 

Of  unimagined  loveliness  didst  range, 
Urged  ever  by  the  soul's  divine  unrest. 

Of  that  high  quest  and  thai:  unrest  divine 
Thy  first  immortal  music  thou  didst  make. 

Inwrought  with  fairy  Alp,  and  Reuss,  and  Rhine, 
And  phantom  seas  that  break 


AVE! 

In  soundless  foam  along  the  shores  of  Time, 
Prisoned  in  thine  imperishable  rhyme. 


Thyself  the  lark  melodious  in  mid-heaven; 

Thyself  the  Protean  shape  of  chainless  cloud, 
Pregnant  with  elemental  fire,  and  driven 

Through  deeps  of  quivering  light,  and  darkness  loud 
With  tempest,  yet  beneficent  as  prayer; 

Thyself  the  wild  west  wind,  relentless  strewing 
The  withered  leaves  of  custom  on  the  air, 

And  through  the  wreck  pursuing 
O'er  lovelier  Amos,  more  imperial  Romes, 
Thy  radiant  visions  to  their  viewless  homes. 


And  when  thy  mightiest  creation  thou 
Wert  fain  to  body  forth, — the  dauntless  form, 

The  all-enduring,  all-forgiving  brow 
Of  the  great  Titan,  flinchless  in  the  storm 

Of  pangs  unspeakable  and  nameless  hates, 
Yet  rent  by  all  the  wrongs  and  woes  of  men. 

And  triumphing  in  his  pain,  that  so  their  fates 
Might  be  assuaged, — oh  then 

Out  of  that  vast  compassionate  heart  of  thine 

Thou  wert  constrained  to  shape  the  dream  benign. 


— O  Baths  of  Caracalla,  arches  clad 

In  such  transcendent  rhapsodies  of  green 

That  one  might  guess  the  sprites  of  spring  were  glad 
For  your  majestic  ruin,  yours  the  scene. 

The  illuminating  air  of  sense  and  thought; 
And  yours  the  enchanted  light,  O  skies  of  Rome, 

Where  the  giant  vision  into  form  was  wrought; 
Beneath  your  blazing  dome 

The  intensest  song  our  language  ever  knew 

Beat  up  exhaustless  to  the  blinding  blue! — 


AVE! 


The  domes  of  Pisa  and  her  towers  superb. 
The  myrtles  and  the  ilexes  that  sigh 

O'er  San  Giuliano,  where  no  jars  disturb 
The  lonely  aziola's  evening  cry, 

The  Serchio's  sun-kissed  waters, — these  conspired 
With  Plato's  theme  occult,  with  Dante's  calm 

Rapture  of  mystic  love,  and  so  inspired 
Thy  soul's  espousal  psalm, 

A  strain  of  such  elect  and  pure  intent 

It  breathes  of  a  divider  element. 


Thou  on  whose  lips  the  word  of  Love  became 
A  rapt  evangel  to  assuage  all  wrong, 

Not  Love  alone,  but  the  austerer  name 
Of  Death  engaged  the  splendours  of  thy  song. 

The  luminous  grief,  the  spacious  consolation 
Of  thy  supreme  lament,  that  mourned  for  him 

Too  early  haled  to  that  still  habitation 
Beneath  the  grass-roots  dim, — 

Where  his  faint  limbs  and  pain-o'erwearied  heart 

Of  all  earth's  loveliness  became  a  part. 


But  where,  thou  sayest,  himself  would  not  abide, - 

Thy  solemn  incommunicable  joy 
Announcing  Adonais  has  not  died. 

Attesting  death  to  free  but  not  destroy, 
All  this  was  as  thy  swan-song  mystical. 

Even  while  the  note  serene  was  on  thy  tongue 
Thin  grew  the  veil  of  the  Invisible, 

The  white  sword  nearer  swung, — 
And  in  the  sudden  wisdom  of  thy  rest 
Thou  knewest  all  thou  hadst  but  dimly  guessed. 


Lament,  Lerici,  mourn  for  the  world's  loss! 
Mourn  that  pure  light  of  song  extinct  at  noon ! 


«>  AVE ! 

Ye  waves  of  Spezzia  that  shine  and  toss 
Repent  that  sacred  flame  you  quenched  too  soont 

Mourn,  Mediterranean  waters,  mourn 
In  affluent  purple  down  your  golden  shore! 

buchstrains  as  his,  whose  voice  you  stilled  in  scorn. 
Our  ears  may  greet  no  more, 

Unless  at  last  to  that  far  sphere  we  climb 

Where  he  completes  the  wonder  of  his  rhyme! 

XXIII 

How  like  a  cloud  she  fled,  thy  fateful  bark 
From  eyes  that  watched  to  hearts  that  waited,  till 

up  from  the  ocean  roared  the  tempest  dark— 
And  the  wild  heart  Love  waited  for  was  still  • 

Hither  and  thither  in  the  slow,  soft  tide  i 

sheflf "'''  '''°'**"'^'  ^^nils  and  wanderingj 
And  shifting  weeds  thy  fellows,  thou  didst  hide 
Remote  from  all  farewells. 

It  ^^u  "'f  ^.""'  "O""  ^^"^  '•>«  fleeting  rain. 
Nor  heeded  Casa  Magni's  quenchless  pain. 

XXIV 

^^  ^ur  *^'*  "°' '    Nay-  ^°'  't  "as  not  thou, 
RlfrV,ntr  V?'""'  ^^7  """lU'shed  by  the  wives 
Reluctantly  at  last,  and  slumbering  now 

In  one  of  kind  earth's  most  compassionate  graves! 

?^/i°"'TT"°'  "'?".-for  thou  wert  in  the  light 

Of  the  Unspeakable,  where  time  is  not. 
Thou  sawest  those  tears;  but  in  thy  pcfect  sight 

And  thy  eternal  thought 
Were  they  not  even  now  all  wiped  away 
In  the  reunion  of  the  infinite  day! 

XXV 

There  face  to  face  thou  sawest  the  living  God 
^nd  worshipedst,  beholding  Him  the  same 

Adored  on  earth  as  Love,  the  same  whose  rod 
Thou  hadst  endured  as  Life,  whose  secret  name 


AVE  ! 

Thou  now  didst  learn^  the  healing  name  of  Death. 

In  that  unroutable  profound  of  peace, 
Beyond  experience  of  pulse  and  breath, 

Bejrond  the  last  release 
Of  |?"8'n8.  rose  to  greet  thee  all  the  lords 
Of  Thought,  with  consummation  in  their  words: 

XXVI 

He  of  the  seven  cities  claimed,  whose  eyes 

Though  blind,  saw  ^ods  and  heroes,  and  the  fall 
Uf  Ilium,  and  many  alien  skies, 

tJ^^^S"'^^^  ^*'''  *"^  •"*  **'°'"  mortals  call 
The  Thunderous,  who  sang  the  Titan  bound 

As  tho"  the  Titan  victor;  the  benign 
Spintof  liato;  Job;  and  Judah's crowned 

Singer  and  seer  divine; 
Omar;  the  Tuscan;  Milton,  vast  and  strong; 
And  Shakespeare,  captain  of  the  host  of  Song. 

XXVII 

Back  from  the  underworld  of  whelming  change 
To  the  wide-glittering  beach  thy  body  came; 

And  thou  didst  contemplate  with  wonder  strange 
And  curious  regard  thy  kindred  flame. 

Fed  sweet  with  frankincense  and  wine  and  salt 
With  fierce  purgation  search  thee,  soon  resolving 

1  nee  to  the  elements  of  the  airy  vault 
And  the  far  spheres  revolving. 

The  common  waters,  the  familiar  woods, 

And  the  great  hills'  inviolate  solitudes. 

xxviii 

Thy  close  companions  there  officiated 

With  solemn  mourning  and  with  mindful  tears,— 
The  pained,  imperious  wanderer  unmated 

Who  voiced  the  wrath  of  those  rebellious  yes-s- 
rrelawney,  lion  limbed  and  high  of  heart; 

And  he,  that  gentlest  sage  and  friend  most  true, 


II 


'•  AVE ! 

V/hom  Adonais  loved.    With  these  bore  part 

One  grieving  ghost,  that  flew 
Hither  and  thither  through  the  smoke  unstirred 
In  waihng  semblance  of  a  wild  white  bird. 

XXIX 

O  heart  of  fire,  that  fire  might  not  consume. 
Forever  glad  the  world  because  of  thee; 

Because  of  thee  forever  eyes  illume 
A  more  enchanted  earth,  a  lovelier  sea! 

O  poignant  voice  of  the  desire  of  life. 
Piercing  our  lethargy,  because  thy  call 

Aroused  our  spirits  to  a  nobler  strife 
Where  base  and  sordid  fall. 

Forever  past  the  conflict  and  the  pain 

More  clearly  beams  the  goal  we  shall  attain! 

XXX 

And  now  once  more,  O  marshes,  back  to  you 
From  whatsoever  wanderings,  near  or  far, 

To  you  1  turn  with  joy  forever  new, 
To  you,  O  sovereign  vasts  of  Tantramar! 

Your  tides  are  at  the  full.    Your  wizard  flood, 
With  every  tribute  stream  and  brimming  creek, 

Ponders,  possessor  of  the  utmost  good. 
With  no  more  left  to  seek, — 

But  the  hour  wanes  and  passes;  and  once  more 

Resounds  the  ebb  with  destiny  in  its  roar. 

XXXI 

So  might  some  lord  of  men,  whom  force  and  fate 
And  his  great  heart's  unvanquishable  power 

Have  thrust  with  storm  to  his  supreme  estate. 
Ascend  by  night  his  solitary  tower 

High  o'er  the  city's  lights  and  cries  uplift. 
Silent  he  ponders  the  scrolled  heaven  tj  read 

And  the  keen  stars'  conflicting  message  sift. 
Till  the  slow  signs  recede. 

And  ominously  scarlet  dawns  afar 

The  day  he  leads  his  legions  forth  to  war. 


ff 

tCbe  Xoolt  of  tbe  flattve 


To  G.  B.  R. 

How  merry  sings  the  afteimath, 
With  crickets  fifing  in  the  dew! 

The  home-sweet  sounds,  the  scene,  the  hour, 
I  consecrate  to  you. 

All  this  you  knew  and  loved  with  me; 

All  this  in  our  delight  had  part; 
And  now — though  us  earth  sees  no  moi« 

As  comrades,  heart  to  heart — 

This  kindly  strength  of  open  fields, 
This  faith  of  eve,  this  calm  of  air, 

I'hey  lift  my  spirit  close  to  you 
In  memory  and  prayer. 


Autochthon 
I 

I  AM  the  spirit  astir 

To  swell  the  grain 
When  fruitful  suns  confer 

With  labouring  rain; 
I  am  the  life  that  thrills 

In  branch  and  bloom; 
I  am  the  patience  of  abiding  hills. 

The  promise  masked  in  doom. 


When  the  sombre  lands  are  wrung. 
And  storms  are  out, 


THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE 

And  giant  woods  give  tongue, 

I  tm  the  ihout; 
And  when  the  earth  would  tleep, 

Wrapped  in  her  inowi, 
I  am  the  infinite  gleam  of  eyei  that  keep 

The  pott  of  her  repoie. 

m 

I  am  the  hush  of  calm, 

I  am  the  speed. 
The  flood-tide's  triumphing  psalm. 

The  marsh-pool's  heed; 
I  work  in  the  rocking  roar 

Where  cataracts  fall ; 
I  flash  in  the  prismy  fire  that  dances  o'er 

The  dew  s  ephemeral  ball. 

IV 

I  am  the  voice  of  wind 

And  wave  and  tree. 
Of  stem  desires  and  blind. 

Of  strength  to  be; 
I  am  the  cry  by  night 

At  point  of  dawn, 
The  summoning  bugle  from  the  unseen  heigl| 

In  cloud. and  doubt  withdrawn. 


I  am  the  strife  that  shapes 

The  stature  of  a  man, 
Th*  pang  no  hero  escapes, 

'ine  blessing,  the  ban; 
I  am  the  hammer  that  moulds 
The  iron  of  our  race, 
The  omen  of  God  in  our  blood  that  a  people 
beholds, 
The  foreknowledge  veiled  in  our  face. 


THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE 


«7 


Kinship 

Back  to  the  bewildering  virion 

And  the  borderland  of  birth; 
Back  into  the  looming  wonder. 

The  companionship  of  earth; 

Back  unto  the  simple  kindred — 
Childlike  finders,  childlike  evet, 

Working,  waiting,  comprehending, 
Now  m  patience,  now  surprise; 

Back  unto  the  faithful  healing 
And  the  candour  of  the  sod — 

Scent  of  mould  and  moisture  stirring 
At  the  secret  touch  of  God; 

Back  into  the  ancient  stillness 
Where  the  wise  enchanter  weaves, 

To  the  twine  of  questing  tree-root, 
The  expectancy  of  leaves; 

Back  to  hear  the  hushed  consulting 
Over  bud  and  blade  and  germ, 

As  the  Mother's  mood  apportions 
Each  its  pattern,  each  its  term; 

Back  into  the  grave  beginnings 
Where  all  wonder-tales  are  true. 

Strong  enchantments,  strange  successions, 
Mysteries  of  old  and  new; 

Back  to  knowledge  and  renewal, 

Faith  to  fashion  and  reveal. 
Take  me.  Mother, — in  compassion 

All  thy  hurt  ones  fain  to  heal. 

Back  to  wisdom  take  me.  Mother; 
Comfort  me  with  kindred  hands; 


i8  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE 

Tell  me  tales  the  world  't  forget  iag, 
Till  my  spirit  understands. 

Tell  me  how  some  sightless  impulse. 
Working  out  a  hidden  plan, 

God  for  km  and  clay  for  fellow. 
Wakes  to  find  itself  a  man. 

Tell  me  how  the  life  of  mortal, 
Wavering  from  breath  to  breath. 

Like  a  ^veb  of  scarlet  pattern 
Hurtles  from  the  loom  of  death. 

How  the  caged  bright  bird,  desire. 
Which  the  hands  of  God  deliver, 

Beats  aloft  to  drop  unheeded 
At  the  confines  of  forever: 

Faints  unheeded  for  a  season, 
Then  putwings  the  farthest  star, 

To  the  wisdom  anU  the  stillness 
Where  thy  consummations  are. 


Origins 

Out  of  the  dreams  that  heap 
The  hollow  hand  of  sleep, — 
Out  of  the  dark  sublime. 
The  echoing. deeps  of  time,- 
From  the  averted  Face 
Beyond  the  bournes  of  space, 
Into  the  sudden  sun 
We  journey,  one  by  one. 
Out  of  the  hidden  shade 
Wherein  desire  is  made, — 
Out  of  the  pregnant  stir 
Where  death  and  life  confer, — 
The  dark  and  mystic  heat 
Where  soul  and  matter  meet, — 
The  enigmatic  Will, — 
We  start,  and  then  are  still. 


THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE 

Inexorably  decreed 
By  the  anceitral  deed, 
The  puppeu  of  our  lirea. 
We  work  out  blind  desires, 
And  for  our  sons  ordain 
The  blessing  or  the  bane. 
In  ignorance  we  stand 
With  fate  on  either  hand, 
And  question  stars  and  earth 
Of  life,  and  death,  and  birth. 
With  wonder  in  our  eyes 
We  scan  the  kindred  skies. 
While  through  the  common  grass 
Our  atoms  mix  and  pass. 
We  feel  the  sap  go  free 
When  spring  comes  to  the  tree; 
And  in  our  blood  is  stirred 
What  warms  the  brooding  bird. 
The  vital  fire  we  breathe 
That  bud  and  blade  bequeath, 
And  strength  of  native  clay 
In  our  full  veins  hath  sway. 

But  in  the  urge  intense 
And  fellowship  of  sense. 
Suddenly  comes  a  word 
In  other  ages  heard. 
On  a  great  wind  our  souls 
Are  borne  to  unknown  goals. 
And  past  the  bournes  of  space 
To  the  unaverted  Face. 


19 


"O  Thou  who  Bidd'st" 

O  Thou  who  bidd'st  a  million  germs  decay 
That  one  white  bloom  may  soar  into  the  day. 
Mine  eyes  unseal  to  see  their  souls  in  death 
Borne  back  to  Thee  upon  the  lily's  breath. 


ao  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE 

An  April  Adoration 

Sang  the  sunrise  on  an  amber  mom — 
"  Earth,  be  glad!    An  April  day  is  bom. 

"  Winter 's  done,  and  April  's  in  the  skies. 
Earth,  look  up  with  laughter  in  your  eyes!  " 

Putting  off  her  dumb  dismay  of  snow, 
Earth  bade  all  her  unseen  children  grow. 

Then  the  sound  of  growing  in  the  air 
Rose  to  God  a  liturgy  of  prayer; 

And  the  thronged  succession  of  the  days 
Uttered  up  to  God  a  psalm  of  praise. 

Laughed  the  running  sap  in  every  vein. 
Laughed  the  running  flurries  of  warm  rain. 

Laughed  the  life  in  every  wandering  root, 
Laughed  the  tingling  cells  of  bud  and  shoot. 

God  in  all  the  concord  of  their  mirth 
Heard  the  adoration-song  of  Earth. 


An  Oblation 

Behind  the  fateful  gleams 
Of  Life's  foretelling  streams 

Sat  the  Artificer 
Of  souls  and  deeds  and  dreams. 

Before  him  April  came ; 
And  on  her  mouth  his  name 

Breathed  like  a  flower 
And  lightened  like  a  flame. 


THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE 


She  offered  him  a  world 

With  showers  of  joy  empearl>  d; 

And  a  spring  wind 
With  iris  wings  unfurled. 

She  offered  him  a  flight 
Of  birds  that  fare  by  night, 

Voyaging  northward 
By  the  ancestral  sight. 

She  offered  him  a  star 
From  the  blue  fields  afar, 

Where  unforgotten 
The  ghosts  of  gladness  are. 

And  every  root  and  seed 
Blind  stirring  in  the  mead 
Her  hands  held  up, — 
And  still  he  gave  no  heed. 

Then  from  a  secret  nook 
Beside  a  pasture  brook, — 
A  place  of  leaves, — 
A  pink-lipped  bloom  she  took. 

Softly  before  his  feet, 
Oblation  small  and  sweet. 
She  laid  the  arbutus. 
And  found  the  offering  meet. 

Over  the  shadowy  tide. 
Where  Birth  and  Death  abide, 

He  stretched  his  palm. 
And  strewed  the  petals  wide; 

And  o'er  the  ebbing  years. 
Dark  with  the  drift  of  tears, 

A  sunbeam  broke. 
And  summer  filled  the  spheres. 


«»  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE 

The  Jonquil 

Through  its  brown  and  withered  bulb 
How  the  white  germ  felt  the  sun 

In  the  dark  mould  gently  stirring 
His  spring  children  one  by  one! 

Thrilled  with  heat,  it  split  the  husk, 
Shot  a  green  blade  up  to  light, 

And  unfurled  its  orange  petals 
In  the  old  enchanter's  sight. 

One  step  more  and  it  had  floated 

On  the  palpitating  noon 
Winged  and  free,  a  butterfly 

Soaring  from  the  rent  cocoon. 

But  it  could  not  leave  its  earth. 
And  the  May-dew's  tender  tears, — 

So  it  wavers  there  forever 

'Twixt  the  green  and  azure  spheres. 

Resurrection 

Daffodil,  lily,  and  crocus, 
They  stir,  they  break  from  the  sod. 

They  are  glad  of  the  sun,  and  they  open 
Their  golden  hearts  to  God. 

They,  and  the  wilding  families, — 
Windflower,  violet,  may, — 

They  rise  from  the  long,  long  dark 
To  the  ecstasy  of  day. 

We,  scattering  troops  and  kindreds, 
From  out  of  the  stars  wind-blown 

To  this  wayside  corner  of  space. 
This  world  that  we  call  our  own, — 

We,  of  the  hedgerows  of  Time, 
We,  too,  shall  divide  the  sod, 


|1<l 


THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE 


"3 


Emerge  to  the  light,  and  blossom, 
With  our  hearts  held  up  to  God. 


Afoot 

Comes  the  lure  of  green  things  growing. 
Comes  the  call  of  waters  flowing, — 

And  the  wayfarer  Desire 
Moves  and  wakes  and  would  be  going. 

Hark  the  migrant  hosts  of  June 
Marching  nearer  noon  by  noon ! 
Hark  the  gossip  of  the  grassis 
Bivouacked  beneath  the  moon ! 

Hark  the  leaves  their  mirth  averring; 
Hark  the  buds  to  blossom  stirring; 
Hark  the  hushed,  exultant  haste 
Of  the  wind  and  world  conferring! 

Hark  the  sharp,  insistent  cry 
Where  the  hawk  patrols  the  sky! 

Hark  the  flapping,  as  of  banners, 
Where  the  heron  triumphs  by! 

Empire  in  the  coasts  of  bloom 
Humming  cohorts  now  resume, — 

And  desire  is  forth  to  follow 
Many  a  vagabond  perfume. 

Long  the  quest  and  far  the  ending 
Where  my  wayfarer  is  wending, — 

When  Desire  is  once  afoot, 
Doom  behind  and  dream  attending! 

Shuttle-cock  of  indecision. 
Sport  of  chance's  blind  derision. 

Yet  he  may  not  fail  nor  tire 
Till  his  eyes  shall  win  the  Vision 


lil 


»4  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE 

In  his  ears  the  phantom  chime 
Of  incommunicable  rhyme, 

He  shall  chase  the  fleeting  camp-fires 
Of  the  Bedouins  of  Tim  , 

Farer  by  uncharted  ways, 

Dumb  as  Death  to  plaint  or  praise, 

Unretuming  he  shall  journey, 
Fellow  to  the  nights  and  days: 

Till  upon  the  outer  bar 

Stilled  the  moaning  currents  are. 

Till  the  flame  achieves  the  zenith. 
Till  the  moth  attains  the  star. 

Till,  through  laughter  and  through  tears. 
I'air  the  final  peace  appears. 

And  about  the  watered  pastures 
Sink  to  sleep  the  nomad  years! 

The  Quest  of  the  Arbutus 

For  days  the  drench  of  noiseless  rains. 
Then  sunshine  on  the  vacant  plains. 
And  April  with  her  blind  desire 
A  vagrant  in  my  veins! 

Because  the  tardy  gods  grew  kind. 
Unrest  "nd  care  were  cast  behind: 
I  took  a  .^ay,  and  fouiid  the  world 
Was  fashioned  to  my  mind. 

The  swelling  sao  that  thrilled  the  wood 
Was  cousin  to  my  eager  blood- 
I  caught  the  stir  of  waking  roots. 
And  knew  that  life  was  good. 

But  something  in  the  odors  fleet, 
And  m  the  sap's  suggestion  sweet, 


THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE  25 

Was  lacking, — one  thing  everywhere 
To  make  the  spring  complete. 

At  length  within  a  leafy  nest, 

Where  spring's  persuasions  pleaded  best, 

I  found  a  pale,  reluctant  flower. 

The  purpose  of  my  quest. 

And  then  the  world's  expectancy 
Grew  clear:  I  knew  its  need  to  be 
Not  this  dear  flower,  but  on?  dear  hand 
To  pluck  the  flower  with  me. 

The  Pipes  of  Pan 

IjGED  with  the  flocking  of  hills,  within  shepherding  watch 
.'   of  Olympus, 

Impe,  vale  of  the  gods,  lies  in  green  quiet  withdrawn ; 
Impe,  vale  of  the  gods,  deep-couched  amid  woodland  and 
1    woodland, 
jireaded  with   amber  of  brooks,   mirrored   in  azure  of 

pools, 
1  day  drowsed  with  the  sun,  charm-drunken  with  moon- 
.    light  at  midnight, 

■ailed  from  the  world  forever  under  a  vapor  of  dreams, — 
lid  by  the  shadows  of  dreams,  not  found  by  the  curious 
I    footstep, 
Icred  and  secret  forever,  Tempe,  vale  of  the  gods. 

low,  through  the  cleft  of  its  bosom,  goes  sweetly  the  water 

I     Peneus! 

low  by  Peneus  the  sward  breaks  into  saffron  and  blue! 

low  the  long  slope-floored  beech-glades  mount  to  the  wind- 

I     wakened  uplands, 

rhere,  through  flame-berried  ash,  troop  the  hoofed  Cen- 

J     taurs  at  morn! 

towhere  greens  a  copse  but  the  eye-beams  of  Artemis 

1     pierce  it. 

Ireathes  ao  laurel  her  balm  but  Phcebus'  fingers  caress. 


36 


THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE 


''"ter  i'r/ar''  '"""  ">=  '''°°''*  «="-«  -'"  shy  la  j 

"^e^Lde--"'''  ''"'''''''  °°'  'he  god  never  can  whoJ 
God-breatUu.k3  in  each  fragment  forever.  Dispersed  J 
Wandering,  caught  in  .he  ripples,  wind-blown  hither  a  J 
Over  the^whole  green  earth  and  globe  of  sea  they  are  s  J 

tneir  lips;  blow,  and  fling  them  awajl 
Ay.  they  fling  them  away,-but  never  wholly-     Thereaf  J 


THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE  ,7 

''"?„' Sraf"  '"  '"'"  ^*'""  ■"""""  «'-»8«  '-8-S 
^""suucr'"''  *  "'""'  """*""'  '"''"  'hem.-acharm- 
?ti!?'7  ^"'"""f  s  and  wild  life,  the  sc:itude  of  the  hills 
Therefore  they  fly  the  heedless  throngs  and  traffic  of  cu'm 

"hersoul  ""■■"'•  ""'  *'='"'  •'"•''"'"8  '"-cool;  and 
'^"''voice""^**''''  a'"™  °f  "^o  =>«""  of  life,  and  the  god's 
^'"'things.'"'"''  "°'  ^'"^  ^^''''   ''"'='''"«  ">««  wonderful 
In  the  Orchard 

O  APPLE  leaves,  so  cool  and  green 

Against  the  summer  sky, 
You  stir,  although  the  wind  is  still 
And  not  a  bird  goes  by. 

You  start, 
And  softly  move  apart 

In  hushed  expectancy. 
Who  is  the  gracious  visitor 
Whose  form  I  cannot  see  ? 

O  apple  leaves,  the  mystic  light 

All  down  your  dim  arcade' 
Why  do  your  shadows  tremble  so. 
Half  glad  and  half  afraid  ? 

The  air 
Is  an  unspoken  prayer; 

Your  eyes  look  all  one  way. 
Who  is  the  secret  visitor 
Your  tremors  would  betray? 

The  Heal-All 

Dear  blossom  of  the  wayside  kin 

Whose  homely,  wholesome  name 
1  ells  of  a  potency  within 

To  win  thee  country  fame! 


1 

i 

a8                THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE 

\]  ' 

The  sterile  hillocks  are  thy  home, 

Beside  the  windy  path; 
The  sky,  a  pale  and  lonely  dome. 

Is  all  thy  vision  hath. 

\l  '■-■ 

Thy  unobtrusive  purple  face 

Amid  the  meagre  grass 
Greets  me  with  long- remembered  grace. 

And  cheers  me  as  I  pass. 

And  I,  outworn  by  petty  care, 
And  vexed  with  trivial  wrong, 

I  heed  thy  brave  and  joyous  air 
Until  my  heart  grows  strong. 

Si 

A  lesson  from  the  Power  I  crave 

That  moves  in  me  and  thee, 
That  makes  thee  modest,  calm,  and  brave, — 

Me  restless  as  the  sea. 

Thy  simple  wisdom  I  would  gain,— 
To  heal  the  hurt  Life  brings, 

With  kindly  cheer,  and  faith  m  pain. 
And  joy  of  common  things. 

A  Song  of  Growth 

; 

In  the  heart  of  a  man 
Is  a  thought  upfurled. 

Reached  its  full  span 
It  shakes  the  world. 
And  to  one  high  thought 
Is  a  whole  race  wrought. 

Not  with  vain  noise 
The  great  work  grows, 

Nor  with  foolish  voice. 
But  in  repose, — 

Not  in  the  rush 

But  in  the  hush. 


THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE 

Froir  the  cogent  lash 
Of  the  c!oud-herd  wind 

The  low  clouds  dash, 
Blown  headlong,  blind; 

But  beyond,  the  great  blue 

Looks  moveless  through. 

O'er  the  loud  world  sweep 
The  scourge  and  the  rod; 

But  in  deep  beyond  deep 
Is  the  stillness  of  God, — 

At  the  Fountains  of  Life 

No  cry,  no  strife. 


39 


Butterflies 

Okce  in  a  garden,  when  the  thrush's  song, 
Pealing  at  morn,  made  holy  all  the  air. 

Till  earth  was  healed  of  many  an  ancient  wrong. 
And  life  appeared  another  name  for  prayer. 

Rose  suddenly  a  swarm  of  butterflies, 
On  wings  of  white  and  gold  and  azure  fire; 

And  one  said,  "  These  are  flowers  that  seek  the  skies. 
Loosed  by  the  spell  of  their  supreme  desire." 


Recompense 

To  Beauty  and  to  Truth  I  heaped 

My  sacrificial  fires. 
I  fed  them  hot  with  selfish  thoughts 

And  many  proud  desires. 

I  stripped  my  days  of  dear  delights 
To  cast  them  in  the  flame. 

Till  life  seemed  naked  as  a  rock, 
And  pleasure  but  a  name. 

And  still  I  sorrowed  patiently. 
And  waited  day  and  night, 


THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE 

Expecting  Truth  from  very  far 
•    And  Beauty  from  her  height. 

Then  laughter  ran  among  the  sUn; 

And  this  I  heard  them  tell: 
"  Beside  his  threshold  is  the  shrine 
Where  Truth  and  Beauty  dwell!  " 

An  Epitaph  for  a  Husbandman 

He  who  would  start  and  rise 
Before  the  crowing  cocks. — 

No  more  he  lifts  his  eyes, 
Whoever  knocks. 

He  who  bflfote  'he  stars 
Would  call  me  cattle  home,— 

They  wait  about  the  bars 
For  him  to  come. 

Him  at  whose  hearty  calls 
The  farmstead  woke  again 

The  horses  in  their  stalls 
Expect  in  vain. 

Busy,  and  blithe,  and  bold, 
He  laboured  for  the  morrow, — 

The  plough  his  hands  would  hold 
Rusts  in  the  furrow. 

His  fields  he  had  to  leave, 
His  orchards  cool  and  dim; 

The  clods  he  used  to  cleave 
Now  cover  him. 

But  the  green,  growing  things 
Lean  kindly  to  his  sleep, — 

White  roots  and  wandering  strings, 
Closer  they  creep. 


THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE 


3« 


Because  he  loved  them  long 

And  with  them  bore  hit  part, 
Tenderly  now  they  throng 

About  his  heart. 

Epitaph  for  a  Sailor  Buried  Ashore 

He  who  but  yesterday  would  roam 
Careless  as  clouds  and  currents  range, 

In  homeless  wandering  most  at  home, 
Inhabiter  of  change ; 

Who  wooed  the  west  to  win  the  east. 
And  named  the  stars  of  North  and  South, 

And  felt  the  zest  of  Freedom's  feast 
Familiar  in  his  mouth ; 

Who  found  a  faith  in  stranger-speech, 

And  fellowship  in  foreign  hands, 
And  had  within  his  eager  reach 

The  relish  of  all  lands — 

How  circumscribed  a  plot  of  earth 
Keeps  now  his  restless  footsteps  still. 

Whose  wish  was  wide  as  ocean's  girth, 
Whose  will  the  water's  will! 

The  Little  Field  of  Peace 

By  the  long  wash  of  his  ancestral  sea 

He  sleeps  how  quietly! 

How  quiet  the  unlifting  eyelids  lie 

Under  this  tranquil  sky! 

The  little  busy  hands  and  restless  feet 

Here  find  that  rest  is  sweet ; 

For  sweetly,  from  the  hands  grown  tired  of  play. 

The  child-world  slips  away, 

With  its  confusion  of  forgotten  toys 

And  kind,  familiar  noise. 


3»  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE 

Not  lonely  doei  he  lie  in  hit  iMt  bed. 

For  love  o'erbroods  his  head. 

Kindly  to  him  the  comrade  graue*  lean 

I  neir  fellowship  of  green. 

The  wilding  meadow  companies  give  heed.— 

Brave  tansy,  and  the  weed 

That  on  the  dyke-top  lifts  its  dauntleu  stalk.— 

Around  his  couch  they  talk. 

The  shadows  of  his  oak-tree  flit  and  play 

Above  his  dreams  all  day. 

The  wind,  that  was  his  playmate  on  the  hUls, 

His  sleep  with  music  fills. 

Here  in  this  tender  acre  by  the  tide 

His  vanished  kin  abide. 

Ah!  what  compassionate  care  for  him  they  keep 

Too  soon  returned  to  sleep  t 

They  watch  him  in  this  little  field  of  peace 

Where  they  have  found  release. 

Not  as  a  stranger  or  alone  he  went 

Unto  his  long  content; 

But  kissed  to  sleep  and  comforted  lies  he 

By  his  ancestral  sea. 


At  Tide  Water 

Tm;  red  and  yellow  of  the  Autumn  salt-grass. 

The  grey  flats,  and  the  yellow-grey  full  tide, 
The  lonely  stacks,  the  grave  expanse  of  marshes.- 

L»  Land  wherein  my  memories  abide 
I  have  come  back  that  you  may  make  me  tranquil. 

Resting  a  little  at  your  heart  of  peace. 
Kemembenng  much  amid  your  serious  leisure 

i-orgetting  more  amid  your  large  release      ' 
For  yours  the  wisdom  of  the  night  and  morning. 

The  word  of  the  inevitable  years. 
The  open  Heaven's  unobscured  communion. 

And  the  dim  whisper  of  the  wheeling  spheres 
^"i  gfeat  things  and  the  terrible  I  bring  you 

10  Je  illumined  in  your  spacious  breath,—' 


THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE  33 

Love,  and  the  uhes  of  desire,  and  anguiih. 
Strange  laughter,  and  the  unhealing  wound  of  death. 

These  in  the  world,  all  these,  have  come  upon  me, 
Leaving  me  mute  and  shaken  with  surprise. 

Oh,  turn  them  in  your  measureless  contemplation, 
And  in  their  mastery  teach  me  to  be  wise. 

Renewal 

Comrade  of  the  whirling  planets. 

Mother  of  the  leaves  and  rain. 
Make  me  joyous  as  thy  birds  are, 

Let  me  be  thy  child  again. 

Show  me  all  the  troops  of  heaven 

Tethered  in  a  sphere  of  dew, — 
All  the  dear  familiar  marvels 

Old,  child-hearted  singers  knew. 

Let  me  laugh  with  children's  laughter. 
Breathe  with  herb  and  blade  and  tree, 

Learn  again  forgotten  lessons 
Of  thy  grave  simplicity. 

Take  me  back  to  dream  and  vision 

From  the  prison-house  of  pain. 
Back  to  fellowship  with  wonder — 

Mother,  take  me  home  again ! 

A  Breathing  Time 

Here  is  a  breathing  time,  and  rest  for  a  little  season. 
Here  have  I  drained  deep  draughts  out  of  the  springs  of 

life. 
Here,  as  of  old,  while  still  unacquainted  with  toil  and 

faintness. 
Stretched  are  my  veins  with  strength,  fearless  my  heart 

and  at  peace. 
I  have  come  back  from  the  crowd,  the  blinding  strife  and 

the  tumult. 


34 


THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE 


Pain  and  the  shadow  of  pain,  sorrow  in  silence  endured: 
Moth"  - '  '*""•  """^  ''°"«'''  ">*  ''«'»'  "f  'he 

^""ear^th"  *'°''"   ^  '''^^  '^'^''"  *^'°'*  '°  "'*  '"°"*^  '''"*' 
Lo,  out  of  failure  triumph !   Renewed  the  wavering  courage 
Te.nse  the  unstrung  nerves,  steadfast  the  falterin£knees' 
Weary  no  more,  nor  faint,  nor  grieved  at  heart,  nor  de- 
spainng, 

""* dreams;"'^  ^""'''  ''"'"  '^'''  '""^'^  *°  ''"'"•'''  '"<^ 

The  Unsleeping 

I  SOOTHE  to  unimagined  sleep 
The  sunless  bases  of  the  deep. 
And  then  I  stir  the  aching  tide 
That  gropes  in  its  reluctant  side. 

I  heave  aloft  the  smoking  hill; 
To  silent  peace  its  throes  I  still. 
But  ever  at  its  heart  of  fire 
I  lurk,  an  unassuaged  desire. 

I  wrap  me  in  the  sightless  germ 
An  instant  or  an  endless  term; 
And  still  its  atoms  are  my  care, 
Dispersed  in  ashes  or  in  air. 

1  hush  the  comets  one  by  one 
To  sleep  for  ages  in  the  sun; 
The  sun  resumes  before  my  face 
His  circuit  of  the  shores  of  space. 

The  mount,  the  star,  the  germ,  the  deep, 
They  all  shall  wake,  they  all  shall  sleep 
Time,  like  a  flurry  of  wild  rain, 
Shall  drift  across  the  darkened  pane. 

Space,  in  the  dim  predestined  hour. 
Shall  crumble  like  a  ruined  tower. 


THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE 

1  only,  with  unfaltering  eye, 

Shall  watch  the  dreams  of  God  go  by. 


35 


Recessional 

Now  along  the  solemn  heights 
Fade  the  Autumn's  altar-lights; 

Down  the  great  earth's  glimmering  chancel 
Glide  the  days  and  nights. 

Little  kindred  of  the  grass, 
Like  a  shadow  in  a  glass 

Falls  the  dark  and  falls  the  stillness; 
We  must  rise  and  pass. 

We  must  rise  and  follow,  wending 
Where  the  nights  and  days  have  ending, — 

Pass  in  order  pale  and  slow 
Unto  sleep  extending. 

Little  brothers  of  the  clod. 
Soul  of  fire  and  seed  of  sod, 

We  must  fare  into  the  silence 
At  the  knees  of  God. 

Little  comrades  of  the  sky 
Wing  to  wing  we  wander  by. 
Going,  going,  going,  going, 
Softly  as  a  sigh. 

Hark,  the  moving  shapes  confer, 
Globe  of  dew  and  gossamer. 

Fading  and  ephemeral  spirits 
In  the  dusk  astir. 

Moth  and  blossom,  blade  and  bee, 
Worlds  must  go  as  well  as  we. 

In  the  long  procession  joining 
Mount,  and  star,  and  sea. 


it 


36  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE 

Toward  the  shadowy  brink  we  climb 
Where  the  round  year  rolls  sublime, 
Rolls,  and  drops,  and  falls  forever 
In  the  vast  of  time; 

Like  a  plummet  plunging  deep 
Past  the  utmost  reach  of  sleep, 

Till  remembrance  has  no  longer 
Care  to  laugh  or  weep. 


Earth's  Complines 

Before  the  feet  of  the  dew 
There  came  a  call  I  knew. 

Luring  me  into  the  garden 
Where  the  tall  white  lilies  grew. 

I  stood  in  the  dusk  between 
The  companies  of  green. 

O'er  whose  aSrial  ranks 
The  lilies  rose  serene. 

And  the  breathing  air  was  stirred 
By  an  unremembered  word, 

Soft,  incommunicable — 
And  wings  not  of  a  bird. 

I  heard  the  spent  blooms  sighing, 
The  expectant  buds  replying; 
I  felt  the  life  of  the  leaves. 
Ephemeral,  yet  undying. 

The  spirits  of  earth  were  there, 
Thronging  the  shadowed  air, 

Servmg  among  the  lilies. 
In  an  ecstasy  of  prayer. 

Their  speech  I  could  not  tell; 
But  the  sap  in  each  green  cell, 


THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE 

And  the  pure  initiate  petals, 
They  knew  that  language  well. 

I  felt  the  soul  of  the  trees — 
Of  the  white,  eternal  seas — 

Of  the  flickering  bats  and  night-motht 
And  my  own  soul  kin  to  these. 

And  a  spell  came  out  of  space 
From  the  light  of  its  starry  place. 

And  I  saw  in  the  deep  of  my  heart 
The  image  of  God's  face. 


37 


The  Solitary  Woodsman 

When  the  grey  lake-water  rushes 
Past  the  dripping  alder-bushes, 

And  the  bodeful  autumn  wind 
In  the  fir-tree  weeps  and  hushes, — 

When  the  air  is  sharply  damp 
Round  the  solitary  camp, 

And  the  moose-bush  in  the  thicket 
Glimmers  like  a  scarlet  lamp, — 

When  the  birches  twinkle  yellow, 
And  the  cornel  bunches  mellow, 

And  the  owl  across  the  twilight 
Trumpets  to  his  downy  fellow, — 

When  the  nut-fed  chipmunks  romp 
Through  the  maples'  crimson  pomp. 

And  the  slim  viburnum  flushes 
In  the  darkness  of  the  swamp, — 

When  the  blueberries  are  dead, 
When  the  rowan  clusters  red, 

And  the  shy  bear,  summer-sleekened. 
In  the  bracken  makes  his  bed, — 


•'Hi 


^'W 


38  THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE 

On  a  day  there  comes  once  more 
To  the  latched  and  lonely  door, 

Down  the  wood-road  striding  silent. 
One  who  has  been  here  before. 

Green  spruce  branches  for  his  head, 
Here  he  makes  his  simple  bed, 

Crouching  with  the  sun,  and  rising 
When  the  dawn  is  frosty  red. 

All  day  long  he  wanders  wide 
With  the  grey  moss  for  his  guide. 

And  his  lonely  axe-stroke  startles 
The  expectant  forest-side. 

Ti.    ird  the  quiet  close  of  day 
Back  to  camp  he  takes  his  way. 
And  about  his  sober  footsteps 
Unafraid  the  squirrels  play. 

On  his  roof  the  red  leaf  falls. 
At  his  door  the  bluejay  calls. 

And  he  hears  the  wood-mice  hurry 
Up  and  down  his  rough  log  walls; 

Hears  the  laughter  of  the  loon 
Thrill  the  dying  afternoon, — 

Hears  the  calling  of  the  moose 
Echo  to  the  early  moon. 

And  he  hears  the  partridge  drumming, 
The  belated  hornet  humming, — 
All  the  faint,  prophetic  sounds 
That  foretell  the  winter's  coming. 

And  the  wind  about  his  eaves 
Through  the  chilly  night-wet  grieves. 

And  the  earth's  dumb  patience  fills  him. 
Fellow  to  the  falling  leaves. 


THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE 

The  Frosted  Pane 

Onk  night  came  Winter  noiselessly,  and  leaned 

Against  my  window-pane. 
In  the  deep  stillness  of  his  heart  convened 

The  ghosts  of  all  his  slain. 

Leaves,  and  ephemera,  and  stars  of  earth, 

And  fugitives  of  grass, — 
White  spirits  loosed  from  bonds  of  mortal  birth, 

He  drew  them  on  the  glass. 


39 


The  Skater 

My  glad  feet  shod  with  the  glittering  steel 
I  was  the  god  of  the  winged  heel. 

The  hills  in  the  far  white  sky  were  lost; 
The  world  lay  still  in  the  wide  white  frost; 

And  the  woods  hung  hushed  in  their  long  white  dream 
By  the  ghostly,  glimmering,  ice-blue  stream. 

Here  was  a  pathway,  smooth  like  glass. 
Where  I  and  the  wandering  wind  might  pass 

To  the  far-off  palaces,  drifted  deep. 
Where  Winter's  retinue  rests  in  sleep. 

I  followed  the  lure,  I  Hed  like  a  bird. 
Till  the  startled  hollows  awoke  and  heard 

A  spinning  whisper,  a  sibilant  twang, 

As  the  stroke  of  the  steel  on  the  tense  ice  rang; 

A.'d  the  wandering  wind  was  left  behind 
As  faster,  faster  \  followed  my  mind ; 

Till  the  blood  sang  high  in  my  eager  brain. 
And  the  joy  of  my  flight  was  almost  pain. 


THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE 

Then  I  stayed  the  rush  of  my  eager  speed 
And  silently  went  as  a  drifting  seed, — 

biowly,  furtively,  till  my  eyes 

Grew  big  with  the  awe  of  a  dim  surmise, 

And  the  hair  of  my  neck  began  to  creep 
At  hearing  the  wilderness  talk  in  sleep. 

Shapes  in  the  fir-gloom  drifted  near. 

In  the  deep  of  my  heart  I  heard  my  fear; 

And  I  turned  and  fled,  like  a  soul  pursued. 
From  the  white,  inviolate  solitude. 


Two  Spheres 

While  eager  angels  watched  in  awe, 
God  fashioned  with  his  hands 

Two  shining  spheres  to  work  his  law. 
And  carry  his  commands. 

With  patient  art  he  shaped  them  true. 

With  calm,  untiring  care; 
And  none  of  those  bright  watchers  knew 

Which  one  to  call  most  fair. 

He  dropped  one  lightly  down  to  earth 

Amid  the  morning's  blue — 
And  on  a  gossamer  had  birth 

A  bead  of  blinding  dew. 

It  flamed  across  the  hollow  field. 

On  tiptoe  to  depart. 
Outvied  Arcturus,  and  revealed 

All  heaven  in  its  heart. 

He  tossed  the  other  into  space 
(As  children  toss  a  ball) 


THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE 


41 


To  swing  forever  in  its  place 
With  equal  rise  and  fail; 

To  flame  through  the  ethereal  dark, 

Among  its  brother  spheres, 
An  orbit  too  immense  to  mark 

The  little  tide  of  years. 

Immanence 

Not  only  in  the  cataract  and  the  thunder. 
Or  in  the  deeps  of  man's  uncharted  soul, 

But  in  the  dew-star  dwells  alike  the  wonder, 
And  in  the  whirling  dust-mote  the  Control. 


Ascription 

O  Thou  who  hast  beneath  Thy  hand 
The  dark  foundations  of  the  land, — 
The  motion  of  whose  ordered  thought 
An  instant  universe  hath  wrought, — 

Who  hast  within  Thine  equal  heed 
The  rolling  sun,  the  ripening  seed. 
The  azure  of  the  speedwell's  eye. 
The  vast  solemnities  of  sky, — 

Who  hear'st  no  less  the  feeble  note 
Of  one  small  bird's  awakening  throat. 
Than  that  unnamed,  tremendous  chord 
Arcturus  sounds  before  his  Lord, — 

More  sweet  to  Thee  than  all  acclaim 
Of  storm  and  ocean,  stars  and  flame. 
In  favour  more  before  Thy  face 
Than  pageantry  of  time  and  space. 

The  worship  and  the  service  be 
Of  him  Thou  madest  most  like  Thee, — 
Who  in  his  nostrils  hath  Thy  breath, 
Whose  spirit  is  the  lord  of  death! 


THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NATIVE 
A  Child's  Prayer  at  Evening 

(Oemiiu,  cui  sunt  PliiatUt  curat) 

Fathbk,  who  keepest 

The  stars  in  Thy  care, 
Me,  too.  Thy  little  one, 

Childish  in  prayer, 
Keep,  as  Tuou  keepest 

The  soft  ni^ht  through, 
Thy  long,  white  lilies 

Asleep  in  Thy  dew. 


5.4 


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Songs  of  tbe  aommon  V>ws  ' 
B  Sonnet  Seauence 


+£-1 


Ackoss  the  fog  the  moon  lies  fair. 

Transfused  with  ghostly  amethyst, 
0  white  Night,  charm  to  wonderment 

The  cattle  in  the  mist! 

Thy  touch,  O  grave  Mysteriarch, 
l/ltkes  dull,  familiar  things  divine. 

O  grant  of  thy  revealing  gift 
Be  some  small  portion  mine! 

Make  thou  my  vision  sane  and  clear. 
That  I  may  see  what  beauty  clings 

In  common  forms,  and  find  the  soul 
Of  unregarded  things! 


The  Furrow 

How  sombre  ilope  these  acres  to  the  sea 
And  to  the  breaking  sun!     The  sun-rise  deeps 
Of  rose  and  crocus,  whence  the  far  dawn  leaps, 

Gild  but  with  scorn  their  grey  monotony. 

The  glebe  rests  patient  for  its  joy  to  be. 

Past  the  salt  field-foot  many  a  dim  wing  sweeps; 
And  down  the  field  a  first  slow  furrow  creeps, 

Pledge  of  near  harvests  to  the  unverdured  lea. 

With  clank  of  harness  tramps  the  serious  team. 

The  sea  air  thrills  their  nostrils.     Some  wise  crows 

Feed  confidently  behind  the  ploughman's  feet. 
In  the  early  chill  the  clods  fresh  cloven  steam. 

And  down  its  griding  path  the  keen  share  goes. 

So,  from  a  scar,  best  flowers  the  future's  sweet. 


The  Sower 

A  BROWN,  sad-coloured  hillside,  where  the  soil 
Fresh  from  the  frequent  harrow,  deep  and  fine, 
Lies  bare;  no  break  in  the  remote  sky-line. 

Save  where  a  flock  of  pigeons  streams  aloft, 

Startled  from  feed  in  some  low-lying  croft. 
Or  far-off  spires  with  yellow  of  sunset  shine; 
And  here  the  Sower,  unwittingly  divine. 

Exerts  the  silent  forethought  of  his  toil. 

Alone  he  treads  the  glebe,  his  measured  stride 
Dumb  in  the  yieldmg  soil;  and  though  small  joy 
Dwell  in  his  heavy  face,  as  spreads  the  blind 

Pale  grain  from  his  dispensing  palm  aside, 
This  plodding  churl  grows  great  in  his  employ;— 
Godlike,  he  makes  provision  for  mankind. 
46 


SONGS  OF  THE  COMMON  DAY 


47 


The  Waking  Earth 

I  With  «hy  briffht  clamour  the  live  brooks  aparkle  and  run. 
Freed  flocks  confer  about  the  farmstead  ways. 

I    The  air  's  a  wine  of  dreams  and  shining  haze, 

I  Beaded  with  bird-notes  thin,— for  Sprin.'?  's  begun! 

Ilhe  sap  flies  upward.     Death  is  over  and  done. 

Ihe  glad  earth  wakes;  the  glad  light  breaks;  the  days 
Grow  round,  grow  radiant.     Praise  for  the  new  life! 

I  Praise 

I  For  bliss  of  breach  and  blood  beneath  the  sun ! 

I  With  potent  wizardry  the  wise  earth  wields, 
To  conjure  with  a  perfume!     From  bare  fields 
I     The  sense  drinks  in  a  bteath  of  furrow  and  sod. 
I  And  lo,  the  bound  of  days  and  distance  yields; 

And  fetterless  the  soul  is  flown  abroad. 

Lord  of  desire  and  beauty,  like  a  God! 


To  Fredericton  in  May-Time 

This  morning,  full  of  breezes  and  perfume, 
Brimful  of  promise  of  midsummer  weather, 
When  bees  and  birds  and  I  are  glad  together, 

Breathes  of  the  full-leaved  season,  when  soft  gloom 

Chequers  thy  streets,  and  thy  close  elms  assume 
Round  roof  and  spire  the  semblance  of  green  billows; 
Yet  now  thy  glory  is  the  yellow  willows, 

The  yellow  willows,  full  of  bees  and  bloom. 

Under  their  dusty  blossoms  blackbirds  meet. 
And  robins  pipe  amid  the  cedars  nigher; 

Thro"  the  still  elms  I  hear  the  ferry's  beat; 
The  swallows  chirp  about  the  towering  spire; 

The  whole  air  pulses  with  its  weight  of  sweet; 
Yet  not  quite  satisfied  is  my  desire! 


SONGS  OF  THE  COMMON  DAY 


The  Cow  Pasture 

I  SEE  the  harsh,  wind-ridden,  eastward  hill, 

By  the  red  cattle  pastured,  blanched  with  dew; 

The  small,  mossed  hillocks  where  the  clay  gets  through; 
The  grey  webs  woven  on  milkweed  tops  at  will. 
The  sparse,  pale  grasses  flicker,  and  are  still. 

The  empty  flats  yearn  seaward.    All  the  view 

Is  naked  to  the  horizon's  utmost  blue; 
And  the  bleak  spaces  stir  me  with  strange  thrill. 

Not  in  perfection  dwells  the  subtler  power 
To  pierce  our  mean  content,  but  rather  works 
Through  incompletion,  and  the  need  that  irks, — 

Not  in  the  flower,  but  effort  toward  the  flower. 
When  the  want  stirs,  when  the  soul's  cravings  urge, 
The  strong  earth  strengthens,  and  the  clean  heavens 
purge. 


When  Milking-Time  is  Done 

Whek  milking-time  is  done,  and  over  all 
This  quiet  Canadian  inland  forest  home 
And  wide  rough  pasture-lots  the  shadows  come, 

And  dews,  with  peace  and  twilight  voices,  fall. 

From  moss-cooled  watering-trough  to  foddered  stall 
The  tired  plough-horses  turn, — the  barnyard  loam 
Soft  to  their  feet, — and  in  the  sky's  pale  dome 

Like  resonant  chords  the  swooping  night-jars  call. 


The  frogs,  cool-fluting  ministers  of  dream. 

Make  shrill  the  slow  brook's  borders;  pasture  bars 
Down  clatter,  and  the  cattle  wander  through, — 

Vague  shapes  amid  the  thickets;  gleam  by  gleam 
Above  the  wet  grey  wilds  emerge  the  stars. 
And  through  the  dusk  the  farmstead  fades  from  view. 


SONGS  OF  THE  COMMON  DAY 


49 


Frogs 

Here  in  the  red  heart  of  the  sunset  lying. 
My  rest  an  islet  of  brown  weeds  blown  dry, 
I  watch  the  wide  bright  heavens,  hovering  nigh, 

My  plain  and  pools  in  lucent  splendour  dyeing. 

My  view  dreams  over  the  rosy  wastes,  descrying 
The  reed- tops  fret  the  solitary  sky; 
And  all  the  air  is  tremulous  to  the  cry 

Of  myriad  frogs  on  mellow  pipes  replying. 

For  the  unrest  of  passion  here  is  peace. 
And  eve's  cool  drench  for  midday  soil  and  taint. 

To  tired  ears  how  sweetly  brings  release 
This  limpid  babble  from  life's  unstilled  complaint; 
While  under  tired  eyelids  lapse  and  faint 

The  noon's  derisive  visions — fade    nd  cease. 


The  Herring  Weir 

Back  to  the  green  deeps  of  the  outer  bay 
The  red  and  amber  currents  glide  and  cringe, 
Diminishing  behind  a  luminous  fringe 

Of  cream-white  surf  and  wandering  wraiths  of  spray. 

Stealthily,  in  the  old  reluctant  way, 
The  red  flats  are  uncovered,  mile  on  mile, 
To  glitter  in  the  sun  a  golden  while. 

Far  down  the  flats,  a  phantom  sharply  grey, 

The  herring  weir  emerges,  quick  with  spoil. 
Slowly  the  tide  forsakes  it.     Then  draws  near. 
Descending  from  the  farm-house  on  the  height, 

A  cart,  with  gaping  tubs.     The  oxen  toil 
Sombrely  o'er  the  level  to  the  weir. 
And  drag  a  long  black  trail  across  the  light. 


so 


SONGS  OF  THE  COMMON  DAY 


The  Salt  Flats 

Here  clove  the  keels  of  centuries  ago 
Where  now  unvisiled  the  flats  lie  bare. 
Here  seethed  the  sweep  of  journeying  waters,  where 

No  more  the  tumbling  floods  of  Fundy  flow, 

And  only  in  the  samphire  pipes  creep  slow 
The  salty  currents  of  the  sap.  The  air 
Hums  desolately  with  wings  that  seaward  fare. 

Over  the  lonely  reaches  beatmg  low. 

The  wastes  of  hard  and  meagre  weeds  are  thronged 
With  murmurs  of  a  past  that  time  has  wronged; 

And  ghosts  of  many  an  ancient  memory 
Dwell  by  the  brackish  pools  and  ditches  blind, 
In  these  low-lying  pastures  of  the  wind. 

These  marshes  pale  and  meadows  by  the  sea. 


The  Fir  Woods 

The  wash  of  endless  waves  is  in  their  tops. 
Endlessly  swaying,  and  the  long  winds  stream 
Athwart  them  from  the  far-off  shores  of  dream. 

Through  the  stirred  branches  filtering,  faintly  drops 

Mystic  dream-dust  of  isle,  and  palm,  and  cave. 
Coral  and  sapphire,  realms  of  rose,  that  seem 
More  radiant  than  iver  earthly  gleam 

Revealed  of  fairy  mead  or  haunted  wave. 

A  cloud  of  gold,  a  cleft  of  blue  profound,— 
These  are  my  gates  of  wonder,  surged  about 
By  tumult  of  tossed  bough  and  rocking  crest: 

The  vision  lures.     The  spirit  spurns  her  bound. 
Spreads  her  unprisoned  wing,  and  drifts  from  out 
This  green  and  humming  gloom  that  wraps  my  rest 


SONGS  OF  THE  COMMON  DAY 


S« 


The  Pea-Fields 

Thssi  are  the  fields  of  light,  and  laughing  air, 
And  yellow  butterflies,  and  foraging  bees, 
And  whitish,  wayward  blossoms  winged  as  these. 

And  pale  green  tangles  like  a  seamaid's  hair. 

Pale,  paie  the  blue,  but  pure  beyond  compare. 
And  pale  the  sparkle  of  the  far-off  seas, 
A-shimmer  like  these  fluttering  slopes  of  peas. 

And  pale  the  open  landscape  everywhere. 

From  fence  to  fence  a  perfumed  breath  exhales 
O'er  the  bright  pallor  of  the  well-loved  fields, — 

My  fields  of  Tantramar  in  summer-time; 
And,  scorning  the  poor  feed  their  pasture  yields. 

Up  from  the  bushy  lots  the  cattle  climb, 
To  gaze  with  longing  through  the  grey,  mossed  rails. 


The  Mowing 

This  is  the  voice  of  high  midsummer's  heat. 
The  rasping  vibrant  clamour  soars  and  shrills 
O'er  all  the  meadowy  range  of  shadeless  hills. 

As  if  a  host  of  giant  cicadee  beat 

The  cymbals  of  their  wings  with  tireless  feet. 
Or  brazen  grasshoppers  with  triumphing  note 
From  the  long  swath  proclaimed  the  fate  that  smote 

The  clover  and  timothy-tops  and  meadowsweet. 


The  crying  knives  glide  on;  the  green  swath  lies. 
And  all  noon  long  the  sun,  with  chemic  ray, 
Seals  up  each  cordial  essence  in  its  cell. 

That  in  the  dusky  stalls,  some  winter's  day, 
The  spirit  of  June,  here  prisoned  by  his  spell. 
May  cheer  the  herds  with  pasture  memories. 


5« 


SONGS  OF  THE  COMMON  DAY 


Where  the  Cattle  Come  to  Drink 

At  evening,  where  the  cattle  come  to  drink, 
Cool  are  the  long  marsh-grasses,  dewy  cool 
The  alder  thickets,  and  the  shallow  pool, 

And  the  brown  clay  about  the  trodden  brink. 

The  pensive  afterthoughts  of  sundown  sink 
Over  the  patient  acres  given  to  peace; 
The  homely  cries  and  farmstead  noises  cease. 

And  the  worn  day  relaxes,  link  by  link. 

A  lesson  that  the  open  heart  may  read 
Breathes  in  this  mild  benignity  of  air,_ 
These  dear,  familiar  savours  of  the  soil, — 

A  lesson  of  the  calm  of  humble  creed. 
The  simple  dignity  of  common  toil. 
And  the  plain  wisdom  of  unspoken  prayer. 


Burnt  Lands 


W 


On  other  fields  and  other  scenes  the  mom 

Laughs  from  her  blue, — but  not  such  fields  are  these. 
Where  comes  no  cheer  of  summer  leaves  and  bees. 

And  no  shade  mitigates  the  day's  white  scorn. 

These  serious  acres  vast  no  groves  adorn ; 
But  giant  trunks,  bleak  shapes  that  once  were  trees. 
Tower  naked,  unassuaged  of  rain  or  breeze, 

Their  stern  grey  isolation  grimly  borne. 

The  months  roll  over  them,  and  mark  no  change. 

But  when  spring  stirs,  or  autumn  stills,  the  year. 

Perchance  some  phantom  leafage  rustles  faint 
Through  their  parched  dreams, — some  old-time  notes  ring 
strange. 

When  in  his  slender  treble,  far  and  clear, 

Reiterates  the  rain-bird  his  complaint 


SONGS  OF  THE  COMMON  DAY 


53 


The  Clearing 

Stomps,  and  harsh  rocks,  and  prostrate  trunks  all  charred. 
And  gnarled  roots  naked  to  the  sun  and  rain, — 
They  seem  in  their  grim  stillness  to  complain, 

And  by  their  plaint  the  evening  peace  is  jarred. 

These  ragged  acres  fire  and  the  axe  have  scarred, 
And  many  summers  not  assuaged  their  pain. 
In  vain  the  pink  and  saffron  light,  in  vain 

The  pale  dew  on  the  hillocks  stripped  and  marred! 

But  here  and  there  the  waste  is  touched  with  cheer 
Where  spreads  the  fire-weed  like  a  crimson  flood 

And  venturous  plumes  of  goldenrod  appear; 
And  round  the  blackened  f  nee  the  great  boughs  lean 

With  comfort;  and  across  the  solitude 
The  hermit's  holy  transport  peals  serene. 


The  Summer  Pool 

This  is  a  wonder-cup  in  Summer's  hand. 

Sombre,  impenetrable,  round  its  rim 

The  fir-trees  bend  and  brood.     The  noons  o'erbrim 
The  windless  hollow  of  its  iris'd  strand 
With  mote-thick  sun  and  water-breathings  bland. 

Under  a  veil  of  lilies  lurk  and  swim 

Strange  shapes  of  presage  in  a  twilight  dim. 
Unwitting  heirs  of  light  and  life's  command. 

Blind  in  their  bondage,  of  no  change  they  dream. 
But  the  trees  watch  in  grave  expectancy. 
The  spell  fulfils, — and  swarms  of  radiant  flame. 

Live  jewels,  above  the  crystal  dart  and  gleam. 
Nor  guess  the  sheen  beneath  their  wings  to  be 
The  dark  and  narrow  regions  whence  they  came. 


54 


SONGS  OF  THE  COMMON  DAY 


Buckwheat 

This  smell  of  home  and  honey  on  the  breeze, 

This  shimmer  of  sunshine  woven  m  white  and  pink 
That  comes  a  dream  from  memory's  yisioned  brink, 

Sweet,  sweet  and  strange  across  the  ancient  trees,— 

It  is  the  buckwheat,  boon  of  the  later  bees. 
Its  breadths  of  heavy-headed  bloom  appearing 
Amid  the  blackened  stumps  of  this  high  clearing, 

Freighted  with  cheer  of  comforting  auguries. 

But  when  the  blunt,  brown  grain  and  red-ripe  sheaves. 
Brimming  the  low  log  barn  beyond  the  eaves. 

Crisped  by  the  first  frost,  feel  the  thresher  s  flail, 
Then  flock  the  blue  wild-pigeons  in  shy  haste 

All  silently  down  Autumn's  amber  trail. 
To  glean  at  dawn  the  chill  and  whitening  waste. 


The  Cicada  in  the  Firs 

Charm  of  the  vibrant,  white  September  sun— 
How  tower  the  firs  to  take  it,  tranced  and  still! 
Their  scant  ranks  crown  the  pale,  round  pasture-hill, 

And  watch,  fai  down,  the  austere  waters  run 

Their  circuit  thro'  the  serious  marshes  dun. 
No  bird-call  stirs  the  blue;  but  strangely  thrill 
The  blunt-faced,  brown  cicada's  wing-notes  shrill, 

A  web  of  silver  o'er  the  silence  spun. 

O  zithem-winged  musician,  whence  it  came 

I  wonder,  this  insistent  song  of  thine! 

Did  once  the  highest  string  of  Summer's  lyre, 
Snapt  on  some  tense  chord  slender  as  a  flame. 

Take  form  again  in  these  vibrations  fine 

That  o'er  the  tranquil  spheres  of  noon  aspire  ? 


SONGS  OF  THE  COMMON  DAV  55 

In  September 

This  windy,  bright  September  afternoon 
My  heart  is  wide  awake,  yet  full  of  dream*. 
The  air,  alive  with  hushed  confusion,  teems 

With  scent  of  grain-fields,  and  a  mystic  rune. 

Foreboding  of  the  fall  of  Summer  soon. 
Keeps  swelling  and  subsiding;  till  there  seems 

0  er  all  the  world  of  valleys,  hills,  and  streams. 
Only  the  wind  s  inexplicable  tune. 

My  heart  is  full  of  dreams,  yet  wide  awake. 

1  lie  and  watch  the  topmost  tossing  boughs 
Of  tall  elms,  pale  against  the  vaulted  blue; 

But  even  now  some  yellowing  branches  shake. 

Some  hue  of  death  the  living  green  endows- 

If  beauty  files,  fain  would  1  vanish  too. 

A  Vesper  Sonnet 

This  violet  eve  is  like  a  waveless  stream 
Celestial,  from  the  rapt  horizon's  brink. 
Assuaging  day  with  the  diviner  drink 

Of  temperate  ecstasy,  and  dews,  and  dream. 

The  wine-warm  dusks,  that  brim  the  vallev,  gleam 
With  here  and  there  a  lonely  casement. '  Cease 
The  impetuous  purples  from  the  sky  of  peace, 

Like  God's  mood  in  tranquillity  supreme. 

The  encircling  uplands  east  and  west  lie  clear 

In  thin  aerial  amber,  threaded  fine,— 
Where  bush-fires  gnaw  the  bramble-thickets  sere  — 

With  furtive  scarlet.     Through  the  hush  benign 
One  white-throat  voices,  till  the  stars  appear. 

The  benediction  of  the  Thought  Divine. 


5« 


SONGS  OF  THE  COMMON  DAY 


The  Potato  Harvest 

A  HIGH  bare  field,  brown  from  the  plough,  and  borne 
Aslant  from  sunset;  amber  wastes  of  sky 
Washing  the  ridge;  a  clamour  of  crows  that  fly 

In  from  the  wide  flats  where  the  spent  tides  mourn 

To  yon  their  rocking  roosts  in  pines  wind-torn; 
A  line  of  grey  snake-fence,  that  zigzags  by 
A  pond,  and  cattle;  from  the  homestead  nigh 

The  long  deep  summonings  of  the  supper  hom. 

Black  on  the  ridge,  against  that  lonely  flush, 
A  cart,  and  stoop-necked  oxen ;  ranged  beside 
Some  barrels;  and  the  day-worn  harvest-folk, 

Here  emptying  their  baskets,  jar  the  hush 
With  hollow  thunders.     Down  the  dusk  hillside 
Lumbers  the  wain;  and  day  fades  out  like  smoke. 


The  Oat-Threshing 

A  LiTTLB  brown  old  homestead,  bowered  in  trees 
That  o'er  the  autumn  landscape  shine  afar, 
Burning  with  amber  and  with  cinnabar. 

A  yellow  hillside  washed  in  airy  seas 

Of  azure,  where  the  swallow  drops  and  flees. 
Midway  the  slope,  clear  in  the  beaming  day, 
A  bam  by  many  seasons  beaten  grey, 

Big  with  the  gain  of  prospering  husbandries. 

In  billows  round  the  wide  red  welcoming  doors 
High  piles  the  golden  straw;  while  from  within, 
Where  plods  the  team  aimd  the  chaffy  din, 

The  loud  pulsation  of  the  thresher  soars. 
Persistent  as  if  earth  could  not  let  cease 
This  happy  proclamation  of  her  peace. 


tMBt. 


SONGS  OF  THE  COMMON  DAY 


57 


The  Autumn  Thistles 

Thi  morning  aky  is  white  with  mist,  the  earth 

White  with  the  inspiration  of  the  dew. 

The  harvest  light  is  on  the  hills  anew. 
And  cheer  in  the  grave  acres'  fruitful  girth. 
Only  in  this  high  pasture  is  there  dearth, 

Where  the  grey  thistles  crowd  in  ranks  austere, 

As  if  the  sod,  close-cropt  for  many  a  year. 
Brought  only  bane  and  bitterness  to  birth. 

But  in  the  crisp  air's  amethystine  wave 
How  the  harsh  stalks  are  washed  with  radiance  now, 
How  gleams  the  harsh  turf  where  the  crickets  lie 

Dew-freshened  in  their  burnished  armour  brave! 
Since  earth  could  not  endure  nor  heaven  allow 
Aught  of  unlovely  in  the  mom's  clear  eye. 


Indian  Summer 

What  touch  hath  set  the  breathing  hills  afire 
With  amethyst,  to  quench  them  with  a  tear 
Of  ecstasy  ?    These  common  fields  appear 

The  consecrated  home  of  hopes  past  number. 

So  many  visions,  so  entranced  a  slumber. 
Such  dreams  possess  the  noonday's  luminous  sphere. 
That  earth,  content  with  knowing  heaven  so  near. 

Hath  done  with  aspiration  and  desire. 


In  these  unlooked-for  hours  of  Truth's  clear  reign 
Unjarring  fitness  hath  surprised  our  strife. 

This  radiance,  that  might  seem  to  cheat  the  view 

With  loveliness  too  perfect  to  be  true. 
But  shows  this  vexed  and  self-delusive  life 

Ideals  whereto  our  Real  must  attain. 


I 


SONGS  OF  THE  COMMON  DAY 


The  Pumpkins  in  the  Com 

Ambix  and  blue,  the  smoke  behind  the  hill. 
Where  in  the  glow  fades  out  the  morning  star, 
Curtains  the  autumn  cornfield,  sloped  afar, 

And  strikes  an  acrid  savour  on  the  chill. 

The  hilltop  fence  shines  saffron  o'er  the  still 

Unbending  ranks  of  bunched  and  bleaching  com. 
And  every  pallid  stalk  is  crisp  with  morn, 

Crisp  with  the  silver  autumn  moms  distil. 

Purple  the  narrowing  alleys  stretched  between 
The  spectral  shooks,  a  purple  harsh  and  cold. 
But  spotted,  where  the  gadding  pumpkins  run, 

With  bursts  of  blaze  that  startle  the  serene 
Like  sudden  voices, — g;lobes  of  orange  bold, 
Elate  to  mimic  the  unrisen  sun. 


The  Winter  Fields 

Winds  here,  and  sleet,  and  frost  that  bites  like  steel. 

The  low  bleak  hill  rounds  under  the  low  sky. 

Naked  of  flock  and  fold  the  fallows  lie. 
Thin  streaked  with  meagre  drift.    The  gusts  reveal 
By  fits  the  dim  grey  snakes  of  fence,  that  steal 

Through  the  white  dusk.     The  hill-foot  poplars  sigh, 

While  storm  and  death  with  winter  trample  by, 
And  the  iron  fields  ring  sharp,  and  blind  lights  reel. 

Yet  in  the  lonely  ridges,  wrenched  with  pain. 
Harsh  solitary  hillocks,  bound  and  dumb. 

Grave  glebes  close-lipped  beneath  the  scourge  and  chain, 
Lurks  hid  the  germ  of  ecstasy — the  sum 

Of  life  that  waits  on  summer,  till  the  rain 
Whisper  in  April  and  the  crocus  come. 


r'S 


SONGS  OF  THE  COMMON  DAY 


59 


In  an  Old  Barn 

Tons  upon  tons  the  brown-green  fragrant  hay 
O'erbrims  the  mows  beyond  the  time-warped  eaves, 
Up  to  the  rafters  where  the  spider  weaves, 

Though  few  flies  wander  his  secluded  way. 

Througha  high  chink  one  lonely  golden  ray, 
Wherein  the  dust  is  dancing,  slants  unstirred. 
In  the  dry  hush  some  rustlings  light  are  heard, 

Of  winter-hidden  mice  at  furtive  play. 

Far  down,  the  cattle  in  their  shadowed  stalls. 
Nose-deep  in  clover  fodder's  meadowy  scent. 
Forget  the  snows  that  whelm  their  pasture  streams, 

The  frost  that  bites  the  world  beyond  their  walls. 
Warm  housed,  they  dream  of  summer,  well  content 
In  day-long  contemplation  of  their  dreams. 


The  Stillness  of  the  Frost 

Obt  of  the  frost-white  wood  comes  winnowing  through 
No  wing;  no  homely  call  or  cry  is  heard. 
Even  the  hope  of  life  seems  far  deferred. 

The  hard  hills  ache  beneath  their  spectral  hue. 

A  dove-grey  cloud,  tender  as  tears  or  dew, 
From  one  lone  hearth  exhaling,  hangs  unstirred. 
Like  the  poised  ghost  of  some  unnamed  great  bird 

In  the  ineffable  pallor  of  the  blue. 

Such,  I  must  think,  even  at  the  dawn  of  Time, 
Was  thy  white  hush,  O  world,  when  thou  lay'st  cold, 
Unwaked  to  love,  new  from  the  Maker's  word, 

And  the  spheres,  watching,  stilled  their  high  accord. 
To  marvel  at  perfection  in  thy  mould. 
The  grace  of  thine  austerity  sublime  I 


SONGS  OF  THE  COMMON  Dh'I 


Midwinter  Thaw 

How  ihrink  the  tnowi  upon  thU  upluid  field, 
Under  the  dove-grey  dome  of  brooding  noon! 
They  shrink  with  loft  reluctant  »hock».  «>d  lOon 

In  tad  brown  ranki  the  furrows  he  revealed. 

From  radiant  ciiterni  of  the  frost  unsealed 
Now  wakes  through  all  the  air  a  watery  rune— 
The  babble  of  a  million  brooks  atune, 

In  fairy  conduiu  of  blue  ice  concealed. 

Noisy  with  crows,  the  wind-break  on  the  hill 
Counts  o'er  its  buds  for  summer.     In  the  air 

Some  shy  foreteller  prophesies  with  skill- 
Some  voyaging  ghost  of  bird,  some  efHuence  rare; 

And  the  stall-wearied  cattle  dream  their  fill        , 
Of  deep  June  pastures  where  the  pools  are  fair. 


The  Flight  of  the  Geese 

I  mtAK  the  low  wind  wash  the  softening  snow. 
The  low  tide  loiter  down  the  shore.    The  nignt, 
Full  filled  with  April  forecast,  hath  no  hght. 

The  salt  wave  on  the  sedge-flat  pulses  slow. 

Through  the  hid  furrows  lisp  «»  ""J"?"""?  "°*.„u, 
The  thaw's  shy  ministers;  and  hark!  The  neignt 
Of  heaven  grows  weird  and  loud  with  unseen  flight 

Of  strong  hosts  prophesying  as  they  go! 

HiKh  through  the  drenched  and  hollow  night  their  wings 
Beat  northward  hard  on  winter's  trail.     The  sound 

Of  their  confused  and  solemn  voices,  borne 

Athwart  the  dark  to  their  long  Arctic  morn. 
Comes  with  a  sanction  and  an  awe  profound, 

A  boding  of  unknown,  foreshadowed  things. 


AiMcUaneonB  Sonnets 


Collect  for  Dominion  Day 

Father  of  nations!     Help  of  the  feeble  hand! 

Strength  of  the  strong!  to  whom  the  nations  kneel! 
Stay  and  destroyer,  at  whose  just  command 

Earth's  kingdoms  tremble  and  her  empires  reel! 
Who  dost  the  low  uplift,  the  small  make  great, 

And  dost  abase  the  ignorantly  proud, 
Of  our  scant  people  mould  a  mighty  state. 

To  the  strong,  stem,— to  Thee  in  meekness  bowed! 
Father  of  unity,  make  this  people  one! 

Weld,  interfuse  them  in  the  patriot's  flame, — 
Whose  forging  on  thine  anvil  was  begun 

In  blood  late  shed  to  purge  the  common  shame; 
That  so  our  hearts,  the  fever  of  faction  done. 

Banish  old  feud  in  our  young  nation's  name. 


The  Slave  Woman 

Shedding  cool  drops  upon  the  sun-baked  clay, 
The  dripping  jar,  brimful,  she  rests  a  space 
On  the  well's  dry  white  brink,  and  leans  her  face, 

Heavy  with  tears  and  many  a  heartsick  day, 

Down  to  the  water's  lip,  whence  slips  away 
A  rivulet  thro'  the  hot,  bright  square  apace, 
And  lo !  her  brow  casts  off  each  servile  trace — 

The  wave's  cool  breath  hath  won  her  thoughts  astray. 

Ah  desolate  heart!     Thy  fate  thou  hast  forgot 
One  moment;  the  dull  pain  hath  left  those  eyes 
Whose  yearning  pierces  time,  and  space,  and  tears. 

Thou  seest  what  was  once,  but  now  is  not,-^ 
By  Niger  thy  bright  home,  thy  Paradise, 
Unscathed  of  flame,  and  foe,  and  hostile  spears. 
63 


MISCELLANEOUS  SONNETS 


The  Train  among  the  Hills 

Vast,  unrevealed,  in  silence  and  the  night 

Brooding,  the  ancient  hills  commune  with  sleep. 
Inviolate  the  solemn  valleys  keep 

Their  contemplation.     Soon  from  height  to  height 

Steals  a  red  finger  of  mysterious  light, 
And  lion-footed  through  the  forests  creep 
Strange  mutterings;  till  suddenly,  with  sweep 

And  shattering  thunder  of  resistless  flight 

And  crash  of  routed  echoes,  roars  to  view, 

Down  the  long  mountain  gorge  the  Night  Express 
Freighted  with  fears  and  tears  and  happiness. 

The  dread  form  passes ;  silence  falls  anew. 

And  lo!  I  have  beheld  the  thronged,  blind  world 
To  goals  unseen  from  God's  hand  onward  hurled. 


A 

It 


Rain 

Sharp  drives  the  rain,  sharp  drives  the  endless  r«in. 

The  rain-winds  wake  and  wander,  lift  and  blow. 

The  slow  smoke-wreaths  of  vapour  to  and  fro 
Wave,  and  unweave,  and  gather  and  build  again. 
Over  the  far  grey  reaches  of  the  plain, — 

Grey  miles  on  miles  my  passionate  thought  must  go,— 

I  strain  my  sight,  grown  dim  with  gazing  so, 
Pressing  my  face  against  the  streaming  pane. 

How  the  rain  beats!    Ah  God,  if  love  had  power 
To  voice  its  utmost  yearning,  even  tho' 
Thro'  time  and  bitter  distance,  not  in  vain. 

Surely  Her  heart  would  hear  me  at  this  hour. 

Look  thro'  the  years,  and  see!     But  would  She  know 
The  white  face  pressed  against  the  streaming  pane  ? 


L( 

A' 


Ai 
Y( 

El 


1U9CELLAMEOUS  SONNETS 


65 


Mist 

Its  hand  compassionate  guards  our  restless  sight 
Against  how  many  a  harshness,  many  an  ill! 
Tender  as  sleep,  its  shadowy  palms  distil 

Strange  vapours  that  ensnare  our  eyes  with  light. 

Rash  eyes,  kept  ignorant  in  their  own  despite, 
It  lets  not  see  the  unsightliness  they  will, 
But  paints  each  scanty  fairness  fairer  still. 

And  still  deludes  us  to  our  own  delight. 

it  fades,  regathers,  never  quite  dissolves. 

And  ah  that  life,  ah  that  the  heart  and  brain 

Might  keep  their  mist  and  glamour,  not  to  know 
So  soon  the  disenchantment  and  the  pain ! 

But  one  by  one  our  dear  illusions  go, 

Stript  and  cast  forth  as  time's  slow  wheel  revolves. 


Tides 

Through  the  still  dusk  how  sighs  the  ebb-tide  out, 
Reluctant  for  the  reed-beds!     Down  the  sands 
It  washes.     Hark!     Beyond  the  wan  grey  strand's 

Low  limits  how  the  winding  channels  grieve. 

Aware  the  evasive  waters  soon  will  leave 
Them  void  amid  the  waste  of  desolate  lands. 
Where  shadowless  to  the  sky  the  marsh  expands. 

And  the  noon-heats  must  scar  them,  and  the  drought. 

Yet  soon  for  them  the  solacing  tide  returns 
To  quench  their  thirst  of  longing.     Ah,  not  so 
Works  the  stern  law  our  tides  of  life  obey! 

Ebbing  in  the  night-watches  swift  away, 
Scarce  known  ere  fled  forever  is  the  flow; 
And  in  parched  channel  still  the  shrunk  stream  mourns. 


j 

! 

i    ■ 
1   - 

m^i 

1   4 

1, 

66  MISCELLANEOUS  SONNETS 


Dark 

Now,  for  the  night  w  hushed  and  blind  with  rain, 

My  soul  desires  coaimumon.  Dear,  with  thee. 

But  hour  by  hour  my  spirit  (jets  not  free, — 
Hour  by  still  hour  my  longing  strives  in  vain. 
The  thick  dark  hems  me,  ev'n  to  the  restless  brain. 

The  wind's  confusion  vague  encumbers  «e. 

Ev'n  passionate  memory,  grown  too  faint  to  see 
Thy  features,  stirs  act  in  her  straitening  chain. 

And  thou,  dost  thou  too  feel  this  strange  divorce 
Of  will  from  power  ?    The  spell  of  night  and  wind, 
BafBing  desire  and  dream,  dost  thou  too  find  ? 

Not  distance  parts  us,  Dear;  but  this  dim  force. 
Intangible,  holds  us  helpless,  hushed  with  pain. 
Dumb  with  the  dark,  blind  with  the  gusts  of  ram! 


Moonlight 

The  fifers  of  these  amethystine  fields, 
Whose  far  fine  sound  the  night  makes  musical. 
Now  while  thou  wak'st  and  longing  would'st  recall 

Joys  that  no  rapture  of  remembrance  fields. 

Voice  to  thy  soul,  lone-sitting  deep  within 
The  still  recesses  of  thine  ecstasy. 
My  love  and  my  desire,  that  fain  would  fly 

With  this  far-silvering  moon  and  fold  thee  in. 

But  not  for  us  the  touch,  the  clasp,  the  kiss, 
And  for  our  restlessness  no  rest.  In  vain 
These  aching  lips,  these  hungering  hearts  that  strain 

Toward  the  denied  fruition  of  our  bliss. 
Had  love  not  learned  of  longing  to  devise 
Out  of  desire  and  dream  our  paradise. 


«» •'«v^;=ft'«ssi(''*«isi«ft« 


MISCELLANEOUS  SONNETS  67 

The  Deserted  City 

THlwt  lies  a  little  city  leagues  away 
Its  wharves  the  green  sea  washes  all  day  lone 
Its  busy,  sun-bright  wharves  with  sailors'  sonlr 

And  clamour  of  trade  ring  loud  the  livelone  dav 

Into  the  happy  harbour  hastening,  gay 
With  press  of  snowy  canvas,  tall  ships  throng. 

riL  hJ^.^.^J'K  '""u'  i°  '"■'he-eyed  Peace  belong, 
Glad  housed  beneath  these  crowding  roofs  of  grey! 

'T  was  long  ago  this  city  prospered  so, 

For  yesterday  a  woman  died  therein 
Since  when  the  wharves  are  idle  fallen,  I  know. 

And  in  the  streets  is  hushed  the  pleasant  din; 
«;„,.  ^^l°ys  ships  have  been,  the  songs  have  been  — 
Since  yesterday  it  is  so  long  ago.  ' 

Khartoum 

S«T  in  the  fierce  red  desert  for  a  sword 
Drawn  and  deep-driven  implacably!     The  tide 

S,„,L^°/?k'"*  '['^^  ^^^\  •=''»f"  ">y  landward  side 
Stornn^ng  thy  palms;  and  past  thy  front  outpoured 
^WM*  f  "»' <''"<1  fnd  wonder!     Late  there  roared 
17^  '  f"  off  paused  the  long  war,  long  defied) 

S!atli"T''  '^K'^^  «reets;%nd'Gordon  died. 
Slaughtered  amid  the  yelling  rebel  horde! 

^  w/^''*  of  shame  and  wrath'ul  tears,  Khartoum, 

HowTtM   ,r  """"  u"'""'"'  '°'  'hou  hast  show; 
HOW  still  the  one  a  ihousand  crowds  outweighs,— 

&2^  ""?  •  "'°°'^'  '*"?"  millions,-one  mln-;  doom 
«ot  sordid  these  nor  unheroic  days! 


I '    ^: 


MISCELLANEOUS  S0NNBT9 


Blomidon 

This  i»  that  black  rock  bastion,  bwed  in  lurge, 

Pregnant  with  agate  and  with  amethyst, 
Whose  foot  the  tides  of  storied  Minas  scourge. 

Whose  top  austere  withdraws  into  Us  mut. 
This  is  that  ancient  cape  of  tearr  and  storm. 

Whose  towering  front  inviolable  frowns 
O'er  vales  Evangeline  and  love  keep  warm— 

Whose  fame  thy  song,  O  tender  singer,  crowns. 
Yonder,  across  these  reeling  fields  of  foam. 

Came  the  sad  threat  of  the  avenging  ships. 
What  profit  now  to  know  if  just  the  doom, 

Though  harsh!    The  streaming  eyes,  the  praying  lips, 
The  shadow  of  inextinguishable  pain. 
The  poet's  deathless  music— these  remain! 


The  Night  Sky 

O  DEEP  of  Heaven,  't  is  thou  alone  art  boundless, 

•T  is  thou  alone  our  balance  shall  not  weigh, 
•T  is  thon  alone  our  fathom-line  finds  soundless,— 

Whose  infinite  our  finite  must  obey! 
Through  thy  blue  realms  and  dawn  thy  starry  reaches 

Thought  voyages  forth  beyond  the  furthest  fire, 
And,  homing  from  no  sighted  shoreline,  leaches 

Thee  measureless  as  is  the  soul's  desire. 
O  deep  of  Heaven,  no  beam  of  Pleiad  ranging 

Eternity  may  bridge  thy  gulf  of  spheres! 
The  ceaseless  hum  that  fills  thy  sleep  unchanging 

Is  rain  of  the  innumerable  years. 
Our  worlds,  our  suns,  our  ages,  these  but  stream 
Through  thine  abiding  like  a  dateless  dream. 


MISCELLANEOUS  SONNETS 


In  the  Wide  Awe  and  Wisdom  of  the  Night 

In  the  wide  awe  and  wisdom  of  the  night 

I  saw  the  round  world  rolling  on  its  way, 
B^ond  significance  of  depth  or  height. 

Beyond  the  interchange  of  dark  ami  day 
I  marked  the  march  to  which  ii  let  no  pause. 

And  that  stupendous  orbit,  round  whoae  rim 
^t^'"  sphere  sweeps,  obedient  unto  laws 

That  utter  the  eternal  thought  of  Him. 
I  campassed  time,  outstripped  the  starry  speed. 

And  m  my  still  Soul  apprehended  space, 
Till  weighmg  laws  which  these  but  blindly  heed. 

At  last  I  came  before  Him  face  to  face,— 
And  knew  the  Universe  of  no  such  span  ' 
As  the  august  infinitude  of  man. 


O  Solitary  of  the  Austere  Sky 

0  Solitary  of  the  atistere  sky, 

Pale  prewnce  of  the  unextinguished  star 
That  from  thy  station  where  the  spheres  wheel  by. 

And  quietudes  of  infinite  patience  are, 
Watchest  this  wet,  grey-visaged  world  emerge,— 

Cold  pinnacle  on  pinnacle,  and  deep 
On  deep  of  ancient  wood  and  wandering  surge  — 

Out  of  the  silence  and  the  mists  of  sleep  •       ' 
How  small  am  I  in  thine  august  regard'     ' 

Invisible,— and  yet  I  know  my  worth' 
When  comes  the  hour  to  break  this  prisoning  shard 

And  reunite  with  Him  that  breathed  me  forth,     ' 

1  hen  shaB  this  atom  of  the  Eternal  Soul 
Encompasa  thee  in  iu  benign  control ! 


V 

SallaAs 


The  Laughing  Sally 

A  WIND  blew  up  from  Pernambuco. 

(Yeo  heave  ho!  the  Laughing  Sailyt 
Hi  yeo,  heave  away!) 
A  wind  blew  out  of  the  east-sou'-east 

And  boomed  at  the  break  of  day. 

The  laughing  SaUy  sped  for  her  life, 

And  a  speedy  craft  was  she. 
The  black  flag  flew  at  her  top  to  tell 

How  she  took  toU  of  the  sea. 

The  wind  blew  up  from  Pernambuco; 
And  m  the  breast  of  the  blast 

On  the  trail  of  the  Saiiy  at  last. 

For  a  day  and  a  night,  a  night  and  a  day; 

Over  the  blue,  blue  round. 
Went  on  the  chase  of  the  pirate  quarry 

The  hunt  of  the  tireless  hound. 

"  A*",''  ?"  'o*  P**"  IxJ"!  ■•  came  the  cry; 

And  the  Sally  raced  for  shore, 
Till  she  reached  the  bar  at  the  river-mouth 

Where  the  shallow  breakers  roar. 

She  passed  the  bar  by  a  secret  channel 
With  clear  tide  under  her  keel,— 

For  he  knew  the  shoals  like  an  open  book. 
The  captain  at  the  wheel. 


MICROCOPY   RiSOlUTION   TEST   CHART 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No.  2) 


A  /APPLIED  IIVMGE    Inc 

gr  1653   EosI   Moin   Slresl 

~~  Rochester,    New    Vork         14609        USA 

'jJSa:  (716)    482  -  0300  -  phone 

gg!  (716)    238  -  5989  -  Fox 


74 


BALLADS 

She  passed  the  bar,  she  sped  like  a  ghost, 

Till  her  sails  were  hid  from  view 
By  the  tall,  liana' d,  unsunned  boughs 

O'erbrooding  the  dark  bayou. 

At  moonrise  up  to  the  river-mouth 

Came  the  Kmg's  black  ship  of  war. 
The  red  cross  flapped  in  wrath  at  her  peak, 

But  she  could  not  cross  the  bar. 

And  while  she  lay  in  the  run  of  the  seas, 

By  the  grimmest  whim  of  chance 
Out  of  the  bay  to  the  north  came  forth 

Two  battle-ships  of  France. 

On  the  English  ship  the  twain  bore  down 

Like  wolves  that  range  by  night; 
And  the  breakers'  roar  was  heard  no  more 

In  the  thunder  of  the  fight. 

The  crash  of  the  broadsides  rolled  and  stormed 

To  the  "  Sally,"  hid  from  view 
Under  the  tall,  liana'd  boughs 

Of  the  moonless,  dark  bayou. 

A  boat  ran  out  for  news  of  the  fight. 
And  this  was  the  word  she  brought — 

•'  The  King's  ship  fights  the  ships  of  France 
As  the  King's  ships  all  have  fought!  " 

Then  muttered  the  mate,  "  I  'm  a  man  of  Devon! ' 
And  the  captain  thundered  then — 

"  There  's  English  rope  that  bides  for  our  necks, 
But  we  all  be  English  men!  " 

The  Sally  glided  out  of  the  gloom 

And  down  tht  moon-white  river. 
She  stole  like  a  grey  shark  over  the  bar 

Where  the  long  surf  seethes  forever. 


BALLADS 

She  hove  to  under  a  high  French  hull. 
And  the  red  cross  rose  to  her  peak 

The  French  were  looking  for  fight  that  night, 
And  they  had  n't  far  to  seek. 

Blood  and  fire  on  the  streaming  decks. 

And  fire  and  blood  below; 
The  heat  of  hell,  and  the  reek  of  htll. 

And  the  dead  men  laid  a-row! 

And  when  the  stars  paled  out  of  heaven 
And  the  red  dawn-rays  uprushed, 

Th^  oaths  of  battle,  the  crash  of  timbers, 
The  roar  of  the  guns  were  hushed. 

With  one  foe  beaten  under  his  bow. 

The  other  afar  in  flight. 
The  English  captain  turned  to  look 

For  his  fellow  in  the  fight. 

The  English  captain  turned,  and  stared;— 
For  where  the  "  Sally  "  had  been 

Was  a  single  spar  upthrust  from  the  sea 
With  the  red-cross  flag  serene! 

A  wind  blew  up  from  Pemambuco,— 
(Yeo  heave  ho!  the  Laughing  Sally! 
Hi  yeo,  hea<7e  away!) 

And  boomed  for  the  doom  of  the  Laughing  Sally 
Gone  down  at  the  break  of  day. 

The  Succour  of  Gluskdp 

(A  Melicitt  Legend) 

Tm  happy  valley  laughed  with  sun, 

The  corn  grew  firm  in  stalk, 
The  lodges  clustered  safe  where  run 

The  streams  of  Peniawk, 


75 


76 


BALLADS 

The  washing-pools  and  shallows  rang 

With  shout  of  lads  at  play; 
At  corn-hoeing  the  women  sang; 

The  warriors  were  away. 

The  splas-hed  white  pebbles  on  the  beach, 

The  idling  paddles,  gleamed; 
Before  the  lodge  doors,  spare  of  speech, 

The  old  men  basked  and  dreamed. 

And  when  the  windless  noon  grew  hot, 
And  the  white  sun  beat  like  steel. 

In  shade  about  the  simmering  pot 
They  gathered  to  their  meal. 

Then  from  the  hills,  on  ftying  feet, 

A  desperate  runner  came. 
With  cry  that  smote  the  peaceful  street. 

And  slew  the  peace  with  shame. 

"  Trapped  in  the  night,  and  snared  in  sleep, 

Our  warriors  wake  no  more! 
Up  from  Wahloos  the  Mohawks  creep— 

Their  feet  are  at  the  door!  " 

The  grey  old  sachems  rose  and  mocked 
The  ruin  that  drew  near;  „    .    . 

And  down  the  beach  the  children  flocked. 
And  women  wild  with  fear. 

Launched  were  the  red  canoes;  when,  lo! 

Beside  them  Gluskap  stood, 
Appearing  with  his  giant  bow 

From  out  his  mystic  wood. 

With  quiet  voice  he  called  them  back. 

And  comforted  their  fears; 
He  swore  the  lodges  should  not  lack. 

He  dried  the  children's  tears; 


BALLADS 

Till  aorrowing  mothers  almost  deemed 

The  desperate  runner  lied, 
And  the  tired  children  slept,  and  dreamed 

Their  fathers  had  not  died. 

That  night  behind  the  mystic  wood 

The  Mohawk  warriors  crept; 
A  spell  went  through  the  solitude 

And  stilled  them,  and  they  slept. 

And  when  the  round  moon,  rising  late, 
The  Hills  of  Kawlm  had  crossed. 

She  saw  the  camp  of  Mohawk  hate 
Swathed  in  a  great  white  frost. 

At  mom,  behind  the  mystic  wood 

Came  Gluskdp,  bow  in  hand. 
And  marked  the  ice-bound  solitude, 

And  that  unwaking  band. 

But  as  he  gazed  his  lips  gre^    ,.  )d, 

For,  safe  among  the  dead. 
There  played  a  ruddy,  laughing  child 

By  a  captive  mother's  head; 

And  child  and  mother,  nestling  warm. 
Scarce  knew  their  foes  had  died, 

As  past  their  sleep  the  noiseless  storm 
Of  •    ^nge  death  turned  aside. 


77 


The  Vengeance  of  Gluskap 

(A  MtHeitt  Legend) 

With  help  in  need  went  journeying  three  days'  space. 

His  village  slept,  and  took  no  thought  of  harm, 
Secure  beneath  the  shadow  of  his  arm. 


BAT  LADS 


■■  t 


U^ 


But  wandering  wizards  watched  his  outward  path, 
And  marked  his  fenceless  dwelling  for  their  wrath. 

They  came  upon  the  tempest's  midnight  wings, 
With  shock  of  thunder  and  the  lightnmg's  slings. 
And  flame,  and  hail,  and  all  disastrous  things. 

When  home  at  length  the  hero  turned  a^ain. 
His  huts  were  ashes  and  his  servants  slam ; 
And  o'er  the  ruin  wept  a  slow,  great  rain. 

He  wept  not;  but  he  cried  a  mighty  word 
Across  the  wandering  sea,  and  the  sea  heard. 

Then  came  great  whales,  obedient  to  his  hand. 
And  bare  him  to  the  demon-haunted  land. 

Where,  in  malign  morass  and  ghostly  wood 
And  grim  cliff -cavern   lurked  the  evil  brood. 

And  scarce  the  avenger's  foot  had  touched  their  coast 
Ere  horror  seized  on  ail  the  wizard  host. 
And  in  their  hiding-places  hushed  the  b"  St. 

He  grew  and  gloomed  before  them  like  a  cloud. 
And  his  eye  drew  them  till  they  cried  aloud, 

And  withering  like  spent  flame  before  his  frown 
They  ran  forth  in  a  madness  and  fell  down. 

Rank  upon  rank  they  lay  without  a  moan, — 

His  finger  touched  them,  and  their  hearts  grew  stone. 

All  round  the  coasts  he  heaped  their  stiffened  clay; 
And  the  sea-mews  wail  o'er  them  to  this  day. 


BALLADS  j^ 

How  the  Mohawks  Set  out  for  Medoctec 

[When  the  invading  Mohawlis  captured  the  outlying  Melicite  village 
of  Madawaska.  they  spared  two  squaws  to  guide  them  dowii-jtream  to 
the  main  Melicite  town  of  Medoctec,  below  Grand  Falls.  The  squaws 
steered  themselves  and  their  captors  over  the  Falls.] 


Grows  the  great  deed,  though  none 
Shout  to  behold  it  done! 
To  the  brave  deed  done  by  night 
Heaven  testifies  in  the  light. 

Stealthy  and  swift  as  a  dream, 
Crowding  the  breast  of  the  stream, 
In  their  paint  and  plumes  of  war 
And  their  war-canoes  four  score, 

They  are  threading  the  Oolastook, 
Where  his  cradling  hills  o'erlook. 
The  branchy  thickets  hide  them; 
The  unstartled  waters  guide  them. 


Comes  night  to  the  quiet  hills 
Where  the  Madawaska  spills, — 
To  his  slumbering  huts  no  warning. 
Nor  mirth  of  another  morning! 

No  more  shall  the  children  wake 

As  the  dawns  through  the  hut-door  break; 

But  the  dogs,  a  trembling  pack. 

With  wistful  eyes  steal  back. 

And,  to  pilot  the  noiseless  foe 
Through  the  perilous  passes,  go 
Two  women  who  could  not  die — 
Whom  the  knife  in  the  dark  passed  by. 


BALLADS 


III 

Where  the  ihomling  waters  froth, 
Churned  thick  like  devils'  broth, — 
Where  the  rocky  shark-jaw  wait*. 
Never  a  bark  that  grates. 

And  the  tearless  captives'  skill 
Contents  them.     Onward  still! 
And  the  low-voiced  captives  tell 
The  tidings  that  cheer  them  well: 

How  a  clear  stream  leads  them  down 
Well-nigh  to  Medoctec  town, 
Er«  to  the  great  Falls'  thunder 
The  long  wall  yawns  asunder. 


The  clear  stream  glimmers  before  tfaem; 
The  faint  night  falters  o'er  them; 
Lashed  lightly  bark  to  bark. 
They  glide  the  windless  dark. 

Late  grows  the  night.     No  feai 
While  the  skilful  captives  stet.! 
Sleeps  the  tired  warrior,  sleeps 
The  chief;  and  the  river  creeps. 


In  the  town  of  the  Melicite 
The  unjarred  peace  is  sweet, 
Green  grows  the  com  and  great. 
And  the  hunt  isfortunal  . 

This  many  a  heedless  year 
The  Mohawks  come  not  neir. 
The  lodge-gate  stands  unburcd; 
Scarce  even  a  dog  keeps  guud. 


Oh 

A 
Th( 


The 
T 

Att 
A 


BALLADS 

But  the  thought  of  tho.e  mute  eu  det 
I»  where  the  sleeper  bides! 

VI 

Gets  forth  those  cavemed  walls 
No  roar  from  the  giant  Falls, 
Whose  mountainous  foam  treads  under 
The  abyss  of  awful  thunder. 

But  the  river's  sudden  speed ' 

An^,h\^^T^"y  "^"'^  recede! 
And  the  tearless  pilots  hear 
A  muttenng  voice  creep  near. 

A  tremor!    The  blanched  waves  leap. 
The  warriors  start  from  sleep  ^ 

Famts  in  the  sudden  blare 
The  cry  of  their  swift  despair, 

h^Ltl  ^'P"^"' death-chant  shrilis. 
But  afar,  remote  from  ills 
Quiet  under  the  quiet  skies 
ineMelicite  village  lies. 

The  Ballad  of  Crossing  the  Brook 

''  rjl^!':,  '°°'  ''"^  -"' -^'  »he  ways  she  missed 
And  the  laughing  water  tinkled  to  the  sea. 


St 


g,  BALLADS 

Oh,  the  dainty,  dainty  maid  to  the  borden  of  the  brook 

And  the  happy  water  whispered  to  the  tree*. 

She  wa.  fain  to  cro..  the  brook,  wu  the  d«nty.  dainty 

But  filst  she  lifted  up  her  elfin  eyei 
To  see  if  there  were  cavalier  or  down  a-near  to  aid, 
And  the  water-bubbles  blinked  in  .urpnie. 

The  brook  bared  it.  pebbleato  P«»»«le  her  dai„,y  feet, 

sh?"i»' » co^'nt;ir(fr&  «.a  u. 

AndThe  shy  water  twinkled  as  it  went. 

As  the  simple  lad  drew  nigh,  then  this  d^^'y.  <|f  "'^  ""'*• 
m  maidens  well  vou  know  how  it  was  done!) 

Stiod  aS  at"e'r  feet  until  he  saw  she  was  afr«d 
Of  the  water  there  a-whimpling  in  the  sun. 

Now  that  simple  lad  had  in  him  all  the  makings  of  a  man; 

AndX  water  hid  its  laughter  in  the  clover. 

So  he  carried  her  across,  with  his  ey«  «="|.^°'^' 

And  his  foolish  heart  a-quakmg  ''"^  del'g«-  f 

And  the  maid  she  looked  him  over  with  her  elfin  eyeso. 

And  thTimpish  water  giggled  at  his  plight. 

He  reached  the  other  side,  he  set  down  the  dainty  maid; 

"  But  he  trembled  so  he  could  nt  speak  a  word 

Then  the  dainty,  dainty  maid-    Thank  yoJ,  bir.    y^ 

AndAe  water-bubbles  chuckled  as  they  heard. 


'lM':f' 


BALLADS 


•s 


°  Th!',*i'^'''^'*/?'"y  •°  '!«*"'y>  «-M«ying  in  the  morn, 
cu    1     °*'"'y'  •*»"»y  mt'den  of  degree. 
She  left  the  simple  com.,     lad  a-sighing  and  forlorn 
wnere  the  mockmg  wn-^r  twinkled  to  the  tea. 

The  Wood  Frolic 

Thi  morning  itar  wm  bitter  bright,  the  morning  tky  was 

And  we  hitched  our  teams  and  started  for  the  woods  at 
break  o(  day. 
Oh,  Ihe  frost  is  an  the  forest,  and  the  snov  files  high  ! 

Along  the  white  and  winding  road  the  sled-bells  jangled 

Between  the  buried  fences,  the  billowy  drifts  between. 
Oh,  merry  swing  the  axes,  and  the  bright  chips  fly  ! 

So  crisp  sang  the  runners,  and  so  swift  the  horses  sped. 

Ihat  the  woods  ere  all  about  us  were  the  sky  grew  red 

Oh,  the  frost  is  on  the  forest,  and  the  smnv  piles  high  I 

The  bark  hung  ragged  on  the  birch,  the  lichen  on  the  fir 
The  lungwort  fringed  the  maple,  and  grey  moss  the  juniper 
C/»,  merry  swing  the  axes,  and  the  bright  chips  fly  ! 

I?,,'""  l""  J"''  J"*^  '=*>'"  ""  "'  ""^  branches  seemed  asleep. 
But  we  broke  their  ancient  vision  j  as  the  axe  bit  deep 
Uh,  the  frost  is  on  the  forest,  e,:l  the  snow  piles  high! 

'*""'  'wadM"*'  °'  "*"  *^''°PP*"  ^""^  "■«  ^"Wng  of  their 
How  rang  the  startled  valleys  and  the  rabbit-haunted  glades ' 
UH,  merry  swing  the  axes,  and  the  bright  chips  j.,  ! 

The  hard  wood  and  the  soft  wood,  we  felled  them  for  our 

*  m'^'iif  "?•  ^^'■.'"  ^^<^^  gum,  we  loved  the  scaly  spruce; 
f ^  the  frost  u  on  the  forest,  and  the  snow  piles  high! 


BALLADS 


And  here  and  there,  with  solemn  ro»r,  lome  hoary  tret 

came  down,  .     ^     u     j       «  . 

And  we  heard  the  rolling  of  the  yean  m  the  thunder  of  its 

OA,  merry  smng  the  axis,  and  tkt  bright  chips  fly  ! 

So.  many  a  tied  was  loaded  up  above  the  »take-top«  soon ; 
And  many  a  load  was  at  the  farm  before  the  horn  of  noon; 
Oh,  the  frost  is  on  the  forest,  and  the  snow  piles  high ! 

And  ere  we  »aw  the  sundown  all  yellow  through  the  trees, 
The  farmyard  stood  as  thick  with  wood  at  a  buckwheat 
patch  with  bees; 
Oh,  merry  swing  the  axes,  and  the  bright  chips  fly  > 

And  with  the  last-returning  teams,   and  axes  burnished 

We  left  the  woods  to  slumber  in  the  frosty  shadowed  night. 
Oh,  the  frost  is  o.i  the  forest,  and  the  snow  piles  high  ! 

And  then  the  wide,  warm  kitchen,  with  beams  across  the 

Thick  hung  with  red-fkinned  onions,  and  homely  herbs  of 

Oh,  merry  swing  the  axes,  and  the  bright  chips  fly  I 

The  dishes  on  the  dresser-shelves  were  shining  blue  and 

white,  J  u  •  u 

And  o'er  the  loaded  table  the  lamps  beamed  bright. 
Oh,  the  frost  is  on  the  forest,  and  the  snowfiUs  high 

Then,  how  the  ham  and  turkey  and  the  apple-sauce  did  fly, 
The  heights  of  boiled  potatoes  and  the  flats  of  pumpkin- 
pic! 
Oh,  merry  swing  the  axes,  and  the  bright  chips  fly  t 

With  bread-and-cheese  and  doughnuts  fit  to  feed  a  farm  a 

And  we  washed  them  down  with  tides  of  tea  and  oceans  of 
spruce  beer.  . .  i  , 

Oh,  the  frost  is  on  the  forest,  and  the  snow  piles  high 


BALLADS  ,, 

Oh,  merry  swi^  ,he  ax,.,  hj  ,H,  tri^i,  \t;,'ff- ' 

^"'  '■^wt'i"""'""  "  """'^'""  "««y  "ever  k„.w 
For  we^gjgged  hi»  with  .  doughnu.  ..  ,he  f.mou.  .econd 

Oh,  the  fro,,  U  ,n  lkef,r,u,  a»J  ,k,  ,nou.  piU,  kigk  , 
Then  ^^„eo„e  fetched  .  flddie.  and  we  .hoved  ..,y  .he 
And  •.  wj.  jig  .„d  reel  .„d  polk,  ju.t  «  long  ..  .e  were 

Oh,  m.rry  ming  Ih,  axes,  and  the  bright  ,hip,  jiy  / 

Oh,  the/rm  U  <m  the  forest,  and  the  sn<nv  piUs  high  / 

The  Tide  on  Tantramar 
I 
Taktrama*!    Tantramar' 

Thy  dyke,  where  grey  .ea-grawet  an, 
Mine  eyes  behold  them  yet. 

But  not  the  gladness  breathed  of  old 
Thv  MT,"«'  H'"*  hill-hollows  hold; 
Thy  wind-blown  leagues  of  green  unrolled. 
Thy  flau  the  red  fljods  fret,  ^^ 

Thy  steady-streaming  winds-tio  more 
These  work  the  rapture  wrought  of  yore. 


86 


BALLADS 

When  aU  thy  wide  bright  strength  outbore 
My  soul  from  fleshly  bar. 

A  darkness  as  of  drifted  rain 
Is  over  tide,  and  dyke,  and  plain. 
The  shadow-pall  of  human  pain 
Is  fallen  on  Tantramar. 

II 

A  little  garden  gay  with  phlox. 
Blue  corn-flowers,  yellow  hollyhocks. 
Red  poppies,  pink  and  purple  stocks, 
Looks  over  Tantramar. 

Pale  yellow  drops  the  road  before 
The  hospitable  cottage-door, -|- 
A  yellow,  upland  road,  and  <>«'., 
The  green  marsh  seeks  the  low  red  shore 
And  winding  dykes  afar. 

Beyond  the  marsh,  and  miles  away. 

The  great  tides  of  the  tumbhng  bay 

Swing  glittering  in  the  golden  day, 

Swing  foaming  to  and  fro; 

And  nearer,  in  a  nest  of  green, 
A  little  turbid  port  is  seen. 
Where  pitch-black  fishing-boats  careen, 
Left  when  the  tide  runs  low. 

The  little  port  is  safe  and  fit. 
About  its  wharf  the  plover  flit. 
The  grey  net-reels  loom  over  it, 
With  grass  about  their  feet. 

In  wave  and  storm  it  hath  no  part. 
This  harbour  in  the  marshes'  heart; 
Behind  its  dykes,  at  peace,  apart 
It  hears  the  surges  beat. 


BALLADS 

The  garden  hollyhocks  are  tall; 
They  tower  above  the  garden  wall, 
And  see,  far  down,  the  port,  and  all 
The  creeks,  and  marshes  wide; 

But  Margery,  Margery, 
'T  is  something  further  thou  wouldst  see! 
Bid  all  thy  blooms  keep  watch  with  thee 
Across  the  outmost  tide. 

Bid  them  keep  wide  their  starry  eyes 
To  warn  thee  should  a  white  sail  rise. 
Slow  climbing  up,  from  alien  skies, 
The  azure  round  of  sea. 

He  sails  beneath  a  stormy  star ; 
The  waves  are  wild,  the  Isles  afar ; 
Summer  is  ripe  on  Tantramar, 
And  yet  returns  not  he. 

Long,  long  thine  eyes  have  watched  in  vain. 
Waited  in  fear,  and  wept  again. 
Is  it  no  more  than  lovers'  pain 
That  makes  thy  heart  so  wild  ? 

At  dreams  within  the  cottage  door 
The  old  man's  eyes  are  lingering  o'er 
The  little  port,— the  far-off  shore,— 
His  dear  and  only  child. 

And  at  her  spinning-wheel  within 
The  mother's  hands  forget  to  spin. 
With  loving  voice  she  calls  thee  in,— 
Her  dear  and  only  child. 

To  leave  the  home-dear  hearts  to  ache 
Was  not  for  thee,  though  thine  should  break. 
For  their  dear  sake,  for  their  dear  sake. 
Thou  wouldst  not  go  with  him. 


88 


BALLADS 

But  always  wise,  and  strong,  and  free, 
Is  given  to  which  of  us  to  be  ? 
A  gathering  shadow,  Margery, 
Makes  all  thy  dayhght  dim! 

Yet  surely  soon  will  break  the  day 
For  which  thine  anxious  waitings  pray,— 
His  sails,  athwart  the  yellow  bay, 
Shall  cleave  the  sky's  blue  nm. 

in 

To-night  the  wind  roars  in  from  sea; 
The  crow  clings  in  the  straining  tree; 
Curlew  and  crane  and  bittern  flee 
The  dykes  of  Tantramar. 

To-night  athwart  an  inky  sky 
A  narrowing  sun  dropped  angrily. 
Scoring  the  gloom  with  dreadful  dye, 
A  bitter  and  flaming  scar. 

But  ere  night  falls,  across  the  tide 
A  close-reefed  barque  has  been  descried. 
And  word  goes  round  the  country-side — 
"  The  Belle  is  in  the  bay!  " 

And  ere  the  loud  night  closes  down 
Upon  that  light's  terrific  frown. 
Along  the  dyke,  with  blowing  gown. 
She  takes  her  eager  way. 

Just  where  his  boat  will  haste  to  land. 

On  the  open  wharf  she  takes  her  sUnd. 

Her  pale  hair  blows  from  out  its  band. 

She  does  not  heed  the  storm. 

Her  blinding  joy  of  heart  they  know 
Who  so  have  fared,  and  waited  so. 
She  heeds  not  what  the  winds  that  blow. 
She  does  not  feel  the  storm. 


BALLADS  89 

But  fiercer  roars  the  gale.     The  night 
With  cloud  grows  black,  with  foam  gleams  white. 
The  creek  boils  to  its  utmost  height. 
The  port  is  seething  full. 

The  gale  shouts  in  the  outer  waves 
Amid  a  world  of  gaping  graves; 
Against  the  dyke  each  great  surge  raves, 
Blind  battering  like  a  bull. 

The  dyke!    The  dyke!    The  brute  sea  shakes 
The  sheltenng  wall.     It  breaks,— it  breaks! 
The  sharp  salt  whips  her  face,  and  wakes 
The  dreamer  from  her  dream. 

The  peat  flood  lifts.     It  thunders  in. 
The  broad  marsh  foams,  and  sinks.     The  din 
Of  waves  is  where  her  world  has  been; — 
Is  this — is  this  the  dream  ? 

One  moment  in  that  surging  hell 
The  old  wharf  shook,  then  cringed  and  feU. 
Then  came  a  lonely  hulk,  the  Belle, 
And  drove  athwart  the  waste. 


They  know  no  light,  nor  any  star. 

Those  ruined  plains  of  Tantramar. 

And  where  the  maid  and  lover  are 

They  know  nor  fear  nor  haste. 


After  the  flood  on  Tantramar 
The  fisher-folk  flocked  in  from  far. 
They  stopped  the  breach;  they  healed  the  scar. 
Once  more  the  marsh  grew  green. 

But  at  the  marsh's  inmost  edge, 
Where  a  tall  fringe  of  flag  and  sedge 
Catches  a  climbing  hawthorn  hedge, 
A  lonely  hulk  is  seen. 


BALLADS 


WP: 


It  lies  forgotten  of  all  tides. 
The  grass  grows  round  its  bleaching  siaei. 
An  endless  inland  peace  abides 
About  its  mouldering  age. 

But  in  the  cot-door  on  the  height 
An  old  man  sits  with  fading  sight, 
And  memories  of  one  cruel  night 
Are  all  his  heritage. 

And  at  her  spinning-wheel  within 
The  mother's  hands  forget  to  spin,— 
So  weary  all  her  days  have  been 
Since  Margery  went  away. 

Tantramar!  Tantramar! 
Until  that  sorrow  fades  afar, 
Thy  plains  where  birds  and  blossoms  are 
Laugh  not  their  ancient  way! 

Whitewaters 

Beside  the  wharf  at  Whitewaters 
The  loitering  ebb  with  noon  confers; 
And  o'er  the  amber  flats  there  seems 
A  sleep  to  brood  of  sun  and  dreams. 

The  white  and  clustering  cottages, 
Thick  shadowed  by  their  windless  trees. 
Inhabit  such  a  calm,  that  change 
Goes  by  and  lets  her  face  grow  strange. 

And  not  far  off,  on  tiptoe  seen. 
The  brown  dyke  and  the  sky  between, 
A  shifting  field  that  heaves  and  slides,— 
The  blue  breast  of  the  Minas  tides. 

A-through  the  little  harbo-"-  go 
The  currents  of  the  scant  i'ereau, 
Drawn  slowly,  drawn  from  springs  unseen 
Amid  the  marsh's  vasts  of  green. 


BALLADS 

Up  from  the  wharf  at  Whitewaters, 
Where  scarce  a  slim  sandpiper  stirs, 
A  yellow  roadway  climbs,  that  feels 
Few  footsteps  and  infrequent  wheels. 

It  climbs  to  meet  the  westering  sun 
Upon  the  heights  of  Blomidon,— 
Bulwark  of  peace,  whose  bastioned  form 
Out-bars  the  serried  hosts  of  storm. 

Down  to  the  wharf  at  Whitewaters, 
The  children  of  the  villagers 
One  drowsy,  windless  hour  of  noon 
Deep  in  the  green  mid-heart  of  June, 

Like  swallows  to  a  sunset  pool 
Came  chattering,  just  let  loose  from  school; 
And  with  them  one  small  lad  of  four, 
Picked  up  as  they  flocked  past  his  door. 

His  sea-blue,  merry  eyes,  his  hair 
Curling  and  like  the  corn-silk  fair. 
His  red,  sweet  mouth,  made  Hally  Clive 
Comely  as  any  lad  alive. 

His  father,  master  of  The  Foam, 
Drave  his  tight  craft  afar  from  home. 
His  mother — peaceful  life  was  hers 
With  Hally,  safe  in  Whitewaters. 

Andin  his  sun-brown  arms  the  boy 
Carried  his  last,  most  cherished  toy; 
A  small  white  kitten,  free  from  fleck, 
With  a  blue  ribbon  round  its  neck. 

In  the  old  timbers  lapping  cool. 
About  the  wharf  the  tide  hung  full; 
And  at  the  wharf-side,  just  afloat. 
Swung  lazily  an  old  grey  boat. 


9* 


BALLADS 

About  the  froth-white  water's  edge. 

The  weedy  planki,  the  washing  »edge, 

And  in  and  out  the  rocking  craft,  .  „  .    . 

The  Children  clambered,  splashed,  and  laughed. 

Till  presently,  grown  tired  of  pUy. 
Up  the  bright  road  they  raced  away. 
But  in  the  boat,  a  drowsy  heap, 
Curled  boy  and  kitten,  sound  asleep. 

Warm  in  the  sunny  boat  they  slept. 
Soon  to  its  ebb  the  slow  tide  crept. 
By  stealthy  fingers,  soft  as  dream 
The  boat  was  lured  mto  the  stream. 

Out  from  the  wharf  it  slipped  and  swung- 
On  the  old  rope  one  moment  hung— 
Then  snapped  its  tether  and  away 
For  the  storm-beaten  outer  bay. 

In  Whitewaters,  in  Whitewaters, 
No  watcher  heeds,  no  rescuer  stirs. 
Out  from  the  port  the  currents  sweep 
With  Hally,  smiling  in  his  sleep. 

An  hour  they  drifted,  till  the  boat 
F?om  "he  low  shore  one  scarce  might  note. 
The  kitten  climbed  the  prow,  and  mewed 
Ag  -.inst  the  watery  solitude. 

Then  Hallv  woke,  and  stared  with  eyes 
Grown"ro7nd  and' dark  with  peved  sunrise. 
Where  were  the  children  gone  ?    And  wnere 
The  grey  old  wharf,  the  weedy  stair  ? 

Bewildered,  and  but  half  awake 
He  sobbed  as  if  his  heart  would  break. 
Then,  as  his  lonely  terror  grew 
Down  in  the  boat  himself  he  threw, 


BALLADS 

And  BMiionately  for  comfort  pressed 
The  kind  white  kitten  to  his  breast. 

The  httle  eddies  clutch  the  keel. 

Lost  and  alone,  lost  and  alone, 
He  heard  the  long  wave  hiss  and  moan. 
He  heard  the  wild  ebb  seethe  and  mourn 
Along  the  outer  shoals  forlorn. 

And  now  a  wind  that  chafed  the  flood 
Blew  down  from  Noel's  haunted  wood: 
And  now  m  the  dread  tides  that  run 
Past  the  gnm  front  of  Blomidon, 

Over  the  rolling  troughs,  between 
The  purple  gulfs   the  slopes  of  green, 
y'"*  "ifkenmg  glide  and  sullen  rest 
The  old  boat  climbed  from  crest  to  crest. 

That  day  in  his  good  ship,  TAe  Foam, 
Shipmaster  Clive  was  speeding  home; 
His  heart  was  light,  his  eyes  elate: 
His  voyage  had  been  fortunate. 

"If  the  wind  holds,"  said  he,  "  to-night 
We  11  anchor  under  Kingsport  Light;— 
I  11  change  the  fogs  of  Fundy  wild 
Vat  Whitewaters  and  wife  and  child." 

"whf/'^t**  "'V'JriWnK  boat,  and  laughed, 
..  ,wu  '  .  """^y  '"bber  -s  lost  his  craft  ?  " 

A  „Vi"  i'  "*?'  "'V  "=""■  'he  gunwale  ? "  cried 
A  sailor  leaning  o'er  the  side. 

The  captain  raised  his  glass.    Said  he : 

A  kitten!     Some  one's  pet,  maybe! 
we  11  give  It  passage  in  The  Foam  "— 
soft  IS  the  heart  that  's  bound  for  home' 


M 


94 


BALLADS 

••  Stop  for  a  kitten  ?  "  growled  the  mate: 
"  Look  to  the  sun;  we  're  petting  late! 
If  we  lose  this  tack  we  '11  lie  to-night 
A  long  ways  off  o'  Kingsport  Light." 

The  captain  paused  irresolute 
"  To  leave  the  helpless  little  brute 
To  the  wrecked  seaman's  death  accurst, 
The  slow,  fierce  hunger,  the  mad  thirst. — 

"  I  wish  not  my  worst  enemy 

Such  death  as  that!     Lay  to!"  said  he. 

The  ship  came  up  into  the  wind ; 

The  slackening  canvas  flapped  and  dinned; 

And  the  ship's  boat  with  scant  delay 
Was  swung  and  lowered  and  away, — 
The  captam  at  the  helm,  and  four 
Stout  men  of  Avon  at  the  oar. 

They  neared  the  drifting  craft;  and  when 
They  bumped  against  her  gunwale,  then 
Hally  upraised  his  tumbled  head ! 
"  My  v^od!     My  boy!  "  the  captain  said. 


And  now  with  bellying  sails  The  Foam 
Up  the  tossed  flood  went  straining  home; 
The  wind  blew  fair;  she  lay  that  night 
At  anchor  under  Kingsport  Light. 

And  late  that  night  in  gladness  deep. 
Sank  father,  mother,  child,  to  sleep,— 
Where  no  storm  breaks,  nor  terror  stirs 
The  peace  of  God  in  Whitewaters. 


BALLADS 

The  Forest  Fire 

Thw  night  was  grim  and  still  with  dread; 

No  star  shone  down  from  heaven's  dome- 
The  ancient  forest  closed  around  ' 

The  settler's  lonely  home. 

There  came  a  glare  that  lit  the  north; 

There  came  a  wind  that  roused  the  nieht- 
But  child  and  father  slumbered  on.        ^    ' 

Nor  felt  the  growing  light. 

There  came  a  noise  of  flying  feet, 
With  many  a  strange  and  dread'ful  cry; 

And  sharp  flames  crept  and  leapt  along 
The  red  verge  of  the  sVy. 

There  came  a  deep  and  gathering  roar. 

The  father  raised  his  anxious  head- 
He  saw  the  light,  like  a  dawn  of  blood, 

That  streamed  across  his  bed. 

It  lit  the  old  clock  on  the  wall, 
It  lit  the  room  witn  splendour  wild. 

It  lit  the  fair  and  tumbled  hair 
Of  the  still  sleeping  child; 

And  zigzag  fence,  and  rude  log  bam. 
And  chip-strewn  yard,  and  cabin  grey. 

(ilowed  crimson  in  the  shuddering  glare 
Of  that  untimely  riay. 

The  boy  was  hurried  from  his  sleep; 

The  horse  was  hurried  from  his  stall; 
Up  from  the  pasture  clearing  came 

The  cattle's  frightened  call. 

The  boy  was  snatched  to  the  saddle-bow. 

Wildly,  wildly,  the  father  rode. 
Behind  them  swooped  the  hordes  of  flame 

And  harried  their  abode. 


|f  BALLADS 

The  torching  heat  wM  at  their  heeU; 

The  huge  roar  hounded  them  in  their  mght; 
Red  smoke  and  many  a  flying  brand 

Flew  o'er  them  through  the  night. 

And  past  them  fled  the  wildwood  formt— 

Far-striding  moose,  and  leaping  deer, 
And  bounding  panther,  and  coursing  woll, 

Terrible-eyed  with  fear. 

And  closer  drew  the  fiery  death; 

Madly,  madly,  the  father  rode; 
The  horse  began  to  heave  and  fail 

Beneath  the  double  load. 

The  father's  mouth  was  white  and  stern, 
But  his  eyes  grew  tender  with  long  fareweU. 

He  said:  "  Hold  fast  to  your  seat.  Sweetheart, 
And  ride  Old  Jerry  well! 

"  I  must  go  back.    Ride  on  to  the  river. 

Over  the  ford  and  the  long  raarsh  nde. 
Straight  on  to  the  town.     And  I  '11  meet  you.  Sweetheart, 

Somewhere  on  the  other  side." 

He  slipped  from  the  saddle.     The  boy  rode  on. 

His  hand  clung  fast  in  the  horse's  mane; 
His  hair  blew  over  the  horse's  neck; 

His  small  throat  sobbed  with  pain. 

"  Father!  Father!  "  he  cried  aloud. 

The  howl  of  the  fire-wind  answered  him 
With  the  hiss  of  soaring  flames,  and  cr«»h 

Of  shattering  limb  on  limb. 

But  still  the  good  horse  galloped  on. 
With  sinew  braced  and  strength  renewed. 

The  boy  came  safe  to  the  rivet  ford. 
And  out  of  the  deadly  wood. 


BALLADS 

And  now  with  his  kinifolk,  fenced  from  fear. 

At  play  in  the  heart  of  the  city's  hum, 
"*■"*?•  '"  hii  play  to  wonder  why 

Hii  father  doe«  not  come! 


Marjory 

Spring,  summer,  autumn,  winter, 

Over  the  wild  world  rolls  the  year. 
Comes  June  to  the  rose-red  tamarack  buds. 

But  Marjory  comes  not  here. 

The  pastures  miss  her;  the  house  without  her 
Grows  forgotten,  and  grey  and  old; 

The  wind,  and  the  lonely  light  of  the  sun 
Are  heavy  with  tears  untold. 

Spring,  summer,  autumn,  winter. 

Morning,  evening,  over  and  o'er! 
The  swallow  returns  to  the  nested  rafter. 

But  Marjory  comes  no  more. 

The  grey  barn-doors  in  the  long  wind  rattle 
Hour  by  hour  of  the  long  white  day. 

The  horses  fret  by  the  well-filled  manger 
Since  Marjory  went  away. 

The  sheep  she  fed  at  the  bars  await  her. 

The  milch  cows  low  for  her  down  the  lane. 
They  long  for  her  light,  light  hand  at  the  milking.- 

They  long  for  her  hand  in  vain. 

Spring,  summer,  autumn,  winter. 
Morning  and  evening,  over  and  o'er! 

The  bees  come  back  with  the  willow  catkins. 
But  Marjory  comes  no  more. 

The  voice  of  the  far-off  city  called  to  her. 
Was  it  long  years  or  an  hour  ago  ? 


gS  BALLADS 

She  went  (way,  with  dear  eyei  weeping, 
To  •  world  (he  did  not  know. 

The  benled  paiturei  they  could  not  keep  her, 
The  brook,  nor  the  buttercup-fjiolden  hill, 

Nor  even  the  long,  long  love  familiar,— 
The  itrange  voice  called  her  still. 

She  would  not  itay  for  the  old  home  garden; — 

The  scarlet  poppy,  the  mignonette. 
The  fox-glove  bell,  and  the  kind-eyed  pansy, 

Their  hearts  will  not  forget. 

Oh,  that  her  feet  had  not  forgotten 
The  woodland  country,  the  homeward  way! 

Oh,  to  look  out  of  the  sad,  bright  window 
And  see  her  come  back,  some  day! 

Spring,  summer,  autumn,  winter. 

Over  the  wild  world  rolls  the  year. 
Comes  joy  to  the  bird  on  the  nested  rafter; 

But  Marjory  comer  not  here. 

The  Keepers  of  the  Pass 

[When  the  Troquoit  were  moving  in  overwhelming  force  to  obliterile 
the  infant  town  of  Montreal,  Ad»m  Daulac  and  a  imall  band  of  com- 
rades, binding  themselves  by  oath  not  to  return  alive,  went  forth  to 
meet  the  enemy  in  a  distant  pass  between  the  Ottawa  River  and  the 
hills.  There  they  died  to  a  man,  but  not  till  they  had  slain  so  many  of 
the  savages  that  the  invading  force  was  shattered  and  compelled  to 
withdraw.] 

Now  heap  the  branchy  barriers  up. 

No  more  for  us  shall  burn 
The  pine-logs  on  the  happy  hearth, 

For  we  shall  not  return. 

We  've  come  to  our  last  camping-gr^dnd. 

Set  rxe  to  fir  and  tamarack. 
The  foe  is  here,  the  end  is  near, 

And  we  shall  not  turn  back. 


BALLADS 

'VJJ'V*"  "■."'•  **»'«  •'••ll  wait. 

The  home-dear  facet  yeani 
The  watch,r.  in  the  «eep"^«ch  - 

For  we  ihall  not  return.    '^""* 

Tk- 1-  Y*  '■"""  "«">«  and  wrack  ^ 

The  little  city  built  far  off  • 
And  we  shall  not  turn  back. 

"iTet^'^lL''!  rf"'"*  '""'=''««  down. 
SerSlnTf^l'  '''i'f'  '"<•  ««-«dge  burn 
Set  hand  to  hand,  lay  brand  to  Err  nd 
But  we  shall  not  return.  ' 

For  every  man  of  us  that  falls 

riL."   ?"*"  "  •'=°''«  'hall  lack. 
Close  in  about  the  Lily  Flagi 
No  man  of  us  goes  back. 

For  us  no  morrow's  dawn  shall  break 

SoS^V.""?  *"*',^**««  •'•""  learn 
Some  day  from  lips  of  flying  scout 
Why  we  might  not  return. 

A  dream  of  children's  laughter  comes 

Across  the  battle's  slack 
A  vision  of  familiar  streets'— 

But  we  shall  not  go  back. 

nZ.V^^  !!'  r  '?""  '''all  earn. 
But  „  'Vn'  '="''  '"f'  -"ay  sleep. 
But  we  shall  not  return. 

^  B^.tw'l!"  ?k'  '"'  •""  ^""'n  '■>  Wood 
Between  these  waters  black. 

For  we  shaU  not  turn  back. 


lOO 


BALLADS 

In  vain  for  us  the  town  shall  wait. 

The  home-dear  faces  yearn, 
The  watchers  in  the  steeple  watch. 

For  we  shall  not  return. 

A  Ballad  of  Manila  Bay 

Your  threats  how  vain,  Corregidor; 
Your  rampired  batteries,  feared  no  more; 
Your  frowning  guard  at  Manila  gate, — 
When  our  Captain  went  before! 

Lights  out.     Into  the  unknown  gloom 
From  the  windy,  glimmering,  wide  sea-room. 
Challenging  fate  in  that  dark  strait 
We  dared  the  hidden  doom. 

But  the  death  in  the  deep  awoke  not  then; 
Mine  and  torpedo  they  spoke  not  then; 
From  the  heights  that  loomed  on  our  passing  Ime 
The  thunders  broke  not  then. 

Safe  through  the  perilous  dark  we  sped. 
Quiet  each  ship  as  the  cjuiet  dead, 
Till  the  guns  of  El  Fraile  roared— too  late. 
And  the  steel  prows  forged  ahead. 

Mute  each  ship  as  the  mute-mouth  grave, 
A  ghost  leviathan  cleaving  the  wave; 
But  deep  in  its  heart  the  great  fires  throb, 
The  travailing  engines  rave, 

The  ponderous  pistons  urge  like  fate, 
The  red-throat  furnaces  roar  elate, 
And  the  sweating  stokers  stagger  and  swoon 
In  a  heat  more  fierce  than  hate. 

So  through  the  dark  we  stole  our  way 
Past  the  grim  warders  and  into  the  bay. 


BALLADS 

P««  Kalibuyo.  and  past  Salinas,- 
And  came  at  the  break  of  day 

How  fine  and  fair'     But  >i,.  .l:-- 

Lit  every  vomiting,  bursting  hullt  '" 

With  a  crimson  reek  of  hell. 

AH  h^n"!^  ll""''  ?°"Sh  beaten,  hail! 
t!! /I    i°  """"  *•'«'  dare  and  fail- 

'^e  dauntless  boat  that  charged  our  fleet 

And  sank  in  the  iron  hail! 

Manila  Bay!     Manila  Bay' 
A  blS""'i^  ""^  """K  on  our  lips  to-day. 
And  the  will  that  has  its  way; 

WhM  thl°S*'K?"  '°'*'  '"  ">«  d«y«  °f  Drake 
Is  the  blood  that  fathered  Blake; 


let 


let 


BALLADS 

And  the  pride  of  the  blood  will  not  be  undone 
While  war  '»  in  the  world  and  a  fight  to  be  won. 
For  the  master  now,  as  the  master  of  old, 
I»  "  the  man  behind  the  gun." 

The  dominant  blood  that  daunts  the  foe, 
That  laughs  at  odds,  and  leaps  to  the  blow,— 
It  is  Dewey's  glory  to-day,  as  Nelson  » 
A  hundred  years  ago! 


VI 


«ew  ffioyft  nocturnes 


The  Ideal 

To  Her,  when  life  was  little  worth, 
When  hope,  a  tide  run  low. 

Between  dim  shores  of  emptiness 
Almost  forgot  to  flow,— 

Faint  with  the  city's  fume  and  stress 
1  came  at  night  to  Her. 

Her  cool  white  fingers  on  my  face- 
How  wonderful  they  were! 

More  dear  they  were  to  fevered  lids 

Than  lilies  cooled  in  dew. 
They  touched  my  lips  with  tenderness, 

Till  life  was  born  anew. 

The  city's  clamour  died  in  calm; 

And  once  again  I  heard 
The  moon-white  woodland  stillnesses 

Enchanted  by  a  bird; 

The  wash  of  far,  remembered  waves; 

The  sigh  of  lapsing  streams; 
And  one  old  garden's  lilac  leaves 

Conferring  in  their  dreams. 

A  breath  from  childhood  daisy  fields 

Came  back  to  me  again, 
Here  in  the  city's  weary  miJeb 

Of  city-wearied  men. 


106  NEW  YORK  NOCTURNES 

In  the  Crowd 

I  WALK  the  city  square  with  thee. 

The  night  is  loud;  the  pavements  roar. 
Their  eddying  mirth  and  misery 
Encircle  thee  and  me. 

The  street  is  full  of  lights  and  cries. 

The  crowd  but  brings  thee  close  to  me. 
I  only  hear  thy  low  replies; 
I  only  see  thine  eyes. 

Night  in  a  Down-town  Street 

Not  in  the  eyed,  expectant  gloom. 

Where  soarinp;  peaks  repose 
And  incommunicable  space 

Companions  with  the  snows; 

Not  in  the  glimmering  dusk  that  crawls 

Upon  the  clouded  sea, 
Where  boumeless  wave  on  boumeless  wave 

Complains  continually; 

Not  in  the  palpable  dark  of  woods 
Where  groping  hands  clutch  fear, 

Does  Night  her  deeps  of  solitude 
Reveal  unveiled  as  here. 

The  street  is  a  grim  cafion  carved 

In  the  eternal  stone. 
That  knows  no  more  the  rushing  stream 

It  anciently  has  known. 

The  emptying  tid:  of  life  has  drained 

The  iron  channel  dry. 
Strange  winds  from  the  forgotten  day 

Draw  down,  and  dream,  and  sigh. 


NEW  YORK  NOCTURNES 

The  narrow  heaven,  the  desolate  moon 
Made  wan  with  endless  years, 

Seem  less  immeasurably  remote 
Than  laughter,  love,  or  tears. 

At  the  Railway  Station 

Hire  the  night  is  fierce  with  light, 
Here  the  great  wheels  come  and  go. 

Here  are  partmgs,  waitings,  meetings. 
Mysteries  of  joy  and  woe. 

Here  is  endless  haste  and  change, 
Here  the  ache  of  streaming  eyes. 

Radiance  of  expectant  faces. 
Breathless  askings,  brief  replies. 

Here  the  jarred,  tumultuous  air 
Throbs  and  pauses  like  a  bell. 

Gladdens  with  delight  of  greeting. 
Sighs  and  sorrows  with  farewell! 

Here,  ah,  here  with  hungry  eyes 
I  explore  the  passing  throng. 

Restless  I  await  your  coming 
Whose  least  absence  is  so  long. 

(Faces,  faces  pass  me  by, 

Meaningless,  and  blank,  and  dumb, 
iill  my  heart  grows  faint  and  sickens 
Lest  at  last  you  should  not  come. 

Then— I  see  you.    And  the  blood 
Surges  back  to  heart  and  brain. 

Eyes  meet  mine,— and  Heaven  opens. 
You  are  at  my  side  again. 


107 


io8  NEW  YORK  NOCTURNES 

Nocturnes  of  the  Honeysuckle 

I 

Forever  shed  your  sweetness  on  the  night, 
Dear  honeysuckle,  flower  of  our  delight! 

Forever  breathe  the  mystery  of  that  hour 

When  her  hand  touched  me,  lightlier  than  a  flower,- 

And  life  became  forever  strange  and  sweet, 
A  gift  to  lay  with  worship  at  her  feet. 


Oh,  flower  of  the  honeysuckle, 

Tell  me  how  often  the  long  night  through 
She  turns  in  her  dream  to  the  open  window. 

She  turns  in  her  dream  to  you. 

Oh,  flower  of  the  honeysuckle, 
Tell  me  how  tenderly  out  of  the  dew 

You  breathe  her  a  dream  of  that  night  of  wonc. . 
When  life  was  fashioned  anew. 

Oh,  flower  of  the  honeysuckle. 

Tell  me  how  long  ere,  the  sweet  night  through, 
She  will  turn  not  to  you  but  to  me  in  the  darkness. 

And  dream  and  desire  come  true. 


My  Garden 

I  HAVE  a  garden  in  the  city's  grime 

Where  secretly  my  heart  keeps  summer-time; 

Where  blow  such  airs  of  rapture  on  my  eyes 
As  those  blest  dreamers  know  in  Paradise, 

Who  after  lives  of  longing  come  at  last 
Where  anguish  of  vain  iove  is  overpast. 


NEW  YORK  NOCTURNES 

Wbjn«je  broad  noon  lies  shadelen  on  the  street. 
And  traffic  roan,  and  toilers  faint  with  heat, 

Wiere  men  forget  that  ever  woods  were  green, 
rne  wonders  of  my  garden  are  not  seen. 

Only  at  night  the  magic  doors  disclose 
Its  labyrmths  of  lavender  and  rose; 

And  honeysuckle,  white  beneath  its  moon, 
ivhispers  me  softly  thou  art  coming  soon; 

And  led  by  Love's  white  hand  upon  my  wrist 
Beside  Its  glimmering  fountains  I  keep  tryst. 

O  Love,  this  moving  fragrance  on  my  hair,— 
Is  It  thy  breath,  or  some  enchanted  air 

From  far,  uncharted  realms  of  mystery 
Which  I  have  dreamed  of  but  shall  never  see  > 

0  Love,  this  low,  wild  music  in  my  ears. 
Is  It  the  heart-beat  of  thy  hopes  and  fears. 

Or  the  faint  cadence  of  some  fairy  song 
Jn  winds  of  boyhood  memory  blown  along  ? 

0  Love,  what  poignant  ecstasy  is  this 

Upon  my  lips  and  eyes  ?    Thy  touch,— thy  kiss. 

Prefer  :e 

Dawn  like  a  lily  lies  upon  the  land 
Since  I  have  known  the  whiteness  of  your  hand. 
Ousk  IS  more  soft  and  more  mysterious  where 
Breathes  on  my  eyes  the  perfume  of  your  hair. 
Waves  at  your  coming  break  in  livelier  blue; 
And  solemn  woods  are  glad  b-;cause  of  you. 


109 


NEW  YORK  NOCTURNES 

Brooki  of  your  laughter  learn  their  li()uid  notei. 
Birds  to  your  voice  attune  their  pleading  throata. 
Fields  to  your  feet  grow  smoother  and  more  green; 
And  happy  blossoms  tell  where  you  have  been. 

Twilight  on  Sixth  Avenue 

OvBR  the  tops  of  the  houses 

Twilight  and  sunset  meet. 
The  green,  diaphanous  dusk 

Sinks  to  the  e<^ger  street. 

Astray  in  the  tangle  of  roofs 

Wanders  a  wind  of  June. 
The  dial  shines  in  the  clock-tower 

Like  the  face  of  a  strange-scrawled  moon. 

The  narrowing  lines  of  the  houses 

Palely  begin  to  gleam, 
And  the  hurrying  crowds  fade  softly 

Like  an  army  in  a  dream. 

Above  the  vanishing  faces 

A  phantom  train  flares  on 
With  a  voice  that  shakes  the  shadows, — 

Diminishes,  and  is  gone. 

And  I  walk  with  the  journeying  throng 

In  such  a  solitude 
As  where  a  lonely  ocean 

Washes  a  lonely  wood. 


The  Street  Lamps 


Eves  of  the  city, 
Keeping  your  sleepless  watch  from  sun  to  sun. 

Is  it  for  pity 
You  tremble,  seeing  innocence  undone; 
Or  do  you  laugh,  to  think  men  thus  should  set 
Spies  on  the  folly  day  would  fain  forget  ? 


NEW  YORK  NOCTURNES 

In  Darkness 

I  HAVi  faced  life  with  courage,— but  not  now  ! 

0  Infinite,  in  this  darknew  draw  thou  near. 
Wisdom  alone  I  asked  of  thee,  but  thou 

HMt  crushed  me  with  the  awful  gift  of  fear. 

In  the  Solitude  of  the  City 

Nioht;  and  the  sound  of  voices  in  the  street. 
Night;  and  the  happy  laughter  where  they  meet. 

The  glad  boy  lover  and  the  trysting  girl. 
But  thou— but  thou— I  cannot  find  thee.  Sweet! 

Night;  and  far  off  the  lighted  pavements  roar. 
Night;  and  the  dark  of  sorrow  keeps  my  door. 

1  reach  my  hand  out  trembling  in  the  dark. 
Thy  hand  comes  not  with  comfort  any  more. ' 

O  Silent,  Unresponding!     If  these  fears 
Lie  not,  nor  other  wisdom  come  with  years. 
No  day  shall  dawn  for  me  without  regret, 
No  night  go  uncompanioned  by  my  tears. 

A  Nocturne  of  Exile 

Out  of  this  night  of  lonely  noise. 

The  city's  crowded  cries. 
Home  of  my  heart,  to  thee,  to  thee 

I  turn  my  longing  eyes. 

Years,  years,  how  many  years  I  went 

In  exile  wearily. 
Before  I  lifted  up  my  face 

And  saw  my  home  in  thee. 

I  had  come  home  to  thee  at  last. 

I  saw  thy  warm  lights  gleam. 
I  entered  thine  abiding  joy, — 

Oh,  was  it  but  a  dream  ? 


la  NEW  YORK  NOCTURNES 

Ere  I  could  reckon  with  my  heart 

The  sum  of  our  delight, 
I  was  an  exile  once  again 

Here  in  the  hasting  night. 

Thy  doors  were  shut;  thy  lights  were  gone 

From  my  remembering  eyes. 
Only  the  city's  endless  tnrong! 

Only  the  crowded  cries! 

A  Street  Vigil 

Hkre  is  the  street 

Made  holy  by  the  passing  of  her  feet, — 
The  little,  tender  feet,  more  sweet  than  myrrh. 
Which  I  have  washed  with  tears  for  love  of  her. 

Here  she  has  gone 

Until  the  very  stones  have  taken  on 
A  glory  from  her  passmg,  and  the  place 
Is  tremulous  with  memory  of  her  face. 

Here  is  the  room 

That  holds  the  light  to  lighten  my  life's  gloom. 
Beyond  that  blank  white  window  she  is  sleeping 
Who  hath  my  hope,  my  health,  my  fame  in  keeping. 

A  little  peace 

Here  for  a  little,  ere  my  vigil  cease 
And  I  turn  homeward,  shaken  with  the  strife 
Of  hope  that  struggles  hopeless,  sick  for  life. 


Surely  the  power 

That  lifted  me  from  darkness  that  one  hour 
To  a  dear  heaven  whereof  no  word  can  tell 
Not  wantonly  will  thrust  me  back  to  hell. 


NEW  YORK  NOCTURNES 
New  Life 

SiNCi  I  have  felt  upon  my  face  thy  tears 

I  have  been  coniecrated,  Dear,  to  thee 
Cleansed  from  the  stain  of  hot  and  frivolous  years 

By  thy  white  passion,  I  have  bowed  the  knee. 
Worshiping  thee  as  sovereign  and  as  saint, 

While  with  desire  all  human  thou  wen  leanini 
To  my  long  kiss,  thy  lip,  and  eyes  grown  faint. 

Thy  spirit  eloquent  wtth  love's  new  meaning! 

^'"uJ,!"^"^  """^""•'in  thy  heart  my  heaven, 
wi.  h«i^'"  ^j'""^;*'  *"'*  ""h  ha*  grown  divine. 
Hope  health,  and  wisdom,  these  thy  love  hath  given. 

And  If  my  song  have  any  worth, -t  is  thine. 
1  hy  hands  are  benediction,  Dear.     Thy  feet 

Are  flowers  upon  the  altar  of  my  soul. 
Whereat  my  holiest  aspirations  meet 

Humble  and  wondering  in  thy  rapt  control 


A  Nocturne  of  Trysting 

Broods  the  hid  glory  in  its  sheath  of  gloom 
A«n,^l"  the  destined  hour,  and  bursts  the  bloom, 
A  rapture  of  white  passion  and  perfume. 

So  the  long  day  is  like  a  bud 

That  aches  with  coming  bliss 
TiU  flowers  in  light  the  wondrous  night 

That  brings  me  to  thy  kiss. 

Then  with  a  thousand  sorrows  forgotten  in  one  hour. 
And  I  fJ  PTu'^"  ""f  "  "'y  ^«'^  fi"d  «  la«  my  goal; 
Ofltf^  ^°n  '"^  J°y  *'""  •""  '  fai"l  prevision 

sSui"""      *'  '*  ""^  ^^^  ""^  ""'  ""»«  ">«  "  thy 


"3 


"4 


NEW  YORK  NOCTURNES 
A  Nocturne  of  Spiritual  Love 


Sleep,  sleep,  imperious  heart!     Sleep,  fair  and  undefiled! 

Sleep  and  be  free. 
Come  in  your  dreams  at  last,  comrade  and  queen  and  child, 

At  last  to  me. 

Come,  for  the  honeysuckle  calls  you  out  of  the  night. 

Come,  for  the  air 
Calls  with  a  tyrannous  remembrance  of  delight, 

Passion,  and  prayer. 

Sleep,  sovereign  heart !  and  now, — for  dream  and  memory 

Endure  no  door, — 
My  spirit  undented  goes  where  my  feet,  to  thee. 

Have  gone  before. 

A  moonbeam  or  a  breath,  above  thine  eyes  I  bow. 

Silent,  unseen, — 
But  not,  ah,  not  unknown !  thy  spirit  knows  me  now 

Where  I  have  been. 

Surely  my  long  desire  upon  thy  soul  hath  power. 

Surely  for  this 
Thy  sleep  shall  breathe  thee  forth,  soul  of  the  lily  flower, 

Under  my  kiss. 

Sleep,  body  wonderful.     Wake,  spirit  wise  and  wild. 

White  and  divine. 
Here  is  our  heaven  of  dream,  O  dear  and  undefiled. 

All  thine,  all  mine. 


In  a  City  Room 

O  city  night  of  noises  and  alarms. 

Your  lights  may  flare,  your  cables  clang  and  rush, 
But  in  the  sanctuary  of  my  love's  arms 

Your  blinding  tumult  dies  into  a  hush. 


NEW  YORK  NOCTURNES 

**W  ni'"  '"'8*'' '"'°"  '"■th  your  unrest- 
»our  plangent  cares  assail  -  ■  .    ■  ""rest, 

B«  when  I  <^„e  nZ  h    "'.ie   b^"  °'  "*''"= 
How  suddenly  your  jar  a,  i  "a™  ,,„, , 

Then  even  remembrance  of  .  -.., ■         ^      . 

.R:Tf.'' '° '  shost'of  loVrovrg;;;""'  p^"" 

vrusiy  against  my  wmdow  in  the  dawn. 

On  the  Elevated  Railroad  at  uoth  Street 

Above  the  hollow  deep  where  lies 

The  city's  slumbering  face 
Out,  out  across  the  night  we  swinir 

A  meteor  launched  Tnsjace*'' 

The  dark  above  is  sown  with  stars. 
The  humming  dark  below 

in  enH?"*  "^  ""'  *''°"«^°d  lamp' 
in  endless  row  on  row. 

Tall  shadow  towers  with  glimmering  lights 
Stand  sinister  and  grim  '^  ^ 

Com»"SP*u,''^*^-P  *"'^  ■°'^«  deep 
Come  darkly  rim  to  rim.  ^ 

Our  souls  have  known  the  midnight  awe 
Of  mount,  and  plain,  and  sea: 

A  v!'!"'*''="y'''°''8'«  enfolds 
A  vaster  mystery. 

At  thy  Voice  my  Heart 

^■^Jhy  voice  my  heart 

Wakes  as  a  bird 
Wakes  in  the  night 

With  sudden  rapture  stirred. 


"5 


ti6 


NEW  YORK  NOCTURNES 

At  thy  look  my  soul 

Soars  as  a  flame 
Soars  from  the  dark 

Toward  heaven,  whence  it  came. 

At  thy  love  my  life 

Lifts  from  the  clod 
As  a  lily  lifts 

From  its  dark  sleep  toward  uoa. 


A  Street  Song  at  Night 

Here  mid  the  hasting  and  eddying  faces, 

Here  in  the  whirl  of  the  crowd, 
Where  the  car  lights  flame  and  the  windows  glare 

And  the  night  is  white  and  loud, 

Here  we  two  are  together,  we  two 

Unheeded,  content,  unknown. 
Not  in  the  wilderness  could  we  be 

More  wonderfully  alone. 

No  face  of  them  all  is  a  face  we  know. 

No  too  familiar  eye 
Will  peer  from  the  throng  to  vex  our  joy 

As  we  two  wander  by. 

Yon  towering  walls  with  the  lights  that  soar 

Are  gnome-land  palaces. 
Yon  airy  train  is  a  dragon  rushmg 

To  carry  us  overseas. 

I  press  you  close  to  my  side,  secure 

In  the  solitude  of  the  throng. 
And  the  laughter  of  children  comes  to  our  lips 

For  we  know  that  love  is  long. 


NEW  YORK   NOCTURNES 
A  Nocturne  of  Consecration 

To  the  sweet  air 

That  breathed  upon  my  face 

Vou  mu°s   hfve  S.tf^  ^l.'"-  ""^e. 
What  do  you  know  7her,-"'  ""'  ^"^  "«  ""d'- 

Said  the  sweet  air 

"  Since  I  have  touched  her  lins 
Bnngmg  the  consecration  of  h«  kiss. 
Half  passion  and  half  prayer  ^ 

And  all  for  you,  i"^'^^' 

To  the  wise  earth, 

And  cunning  past  compare  "'• 

Isad--4?'^^''°'°'-i»<i'esspool. 

ap^JCf^ulth^-S^^'-''^'-' 
Thepain?hrtit!liTnhtrP^i=^r'' 


««7 


Ill 


NBW   YORK  NOGTURHBS 

S'Sfit  S"i«  ".b  ».= •"  ""rf  •'  '»■•" 

Said  the  wise  earth— 

L't^hi^"«d  sS^Sules  hcrhca^-beats  wild 

iVd^t\o  th'euLown  lieht  beyond  ™y  ken. 

AU  I  can  give  to  her  have  1  not  given  ? 

St  en^h  tl  be  glad,  to  suffer,  and  to  know 
The  Mrcery  thit  subdues  the  souls  of  men; 
The  b^aut^that  is  as  the  shadow  of  heaven; 
The  hunger  of  love 

And  unspeakable  joy  thereof. 

And  these  are  dear  to  her  because  of  you. 

You  neS  no  word  of  mine  to  make  you  wis. 

Who  worship  at  her  eyes 

And  find  there  life  and  love  forever  new! 

To  the  white  stars. 

Eternal  and  all-seeing,  . 

In  their  wide  home  beyond  the  wells  »[  w«8. 

I  said—"  There  is  a  little  cloud  that  mars 

The  mystical  perfection  of  her  kiss. 

Mine,  mine,  she  is, 

A«  far  as  lio  to  Up.  and  heart  to  heart, 

Moie,  more  of  her  to  know. 

For  still  her  soul  escapes  me  unaware. 

To  dwell  in  secret  where  I  may  not  go.  „ 

Take/and  uplift  me.    Make  me  wholly  hers. 

Said  the  white  stars,  the  heavenly  ministers,- 
•'  This  life  is  brief,  but  it  is  only  one. 
Before  to-morrow's  sun 
For  one  or  both  of  you  it  may  be  done. 
This  love  of  yours  is  only  )ust  begun. 


NEW  YORK  NOCTURNES 
Will  all  the  ecstiijr  that  may  be  won 

?£e«%Jet'w?r'"'°^''"'y«' 
Content  you  with  the  wonder  of  love  that  liei 
Between  her  lips  and  underneath  her  ey« 
If  more  you  should  surprise.  ^ 

What  would  be  left  to  hope  from  Paradise  ? 
In  other  worlds  expect  another^oy  ^ 

Sor'^^l^etot^H^tle^^^^^^^  ^  --^. 

l^v^^^^^KsSite-itr-^. 

The  thmg  then  learned 

Onl  Hfr;""''.'  ""hin  my  bosom  burned- 
One  life  18  not  enough  for  love  of  you 


119 


Atecellaneons  tioema 


Kinsmen  Strong 

This  is  the  song 
Of  kinsmen  strong 
Standing  at  guard 
^n  the  gates  of  earth.— 

"  Side  by  side 
Our  flags  flung  wide 
Proclaim  the  pride 
Of  our  kindred  birth. 

"  All  ye  of  the  brood 
Of  an  alien  blood 
Take  count  of  our  folk 
No  longer  twain. 
Not  twain,  but  one, 
^  the  tides  that  run 
with  new  warmth  won 
In  each  kindred  vein. 

"  Take  note  all  ye, 
Of  the  alien  knei. 
Of  the  faith  that  fires 
Our  hearts  and  thews. 
One  in  our  creed 
And  one  in  our  need. 
In  daring  and  deed 
We  shall  win,  not  lose. 

"  ^?  counseled,  each 
u»  the  alien  speech, 
From  polar  barren. 


1*4 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

To  isle  empearled: 
Thii  shout  you  hear 
So  near  and  clear 
Is  the  marching  cheer 
Of  the  lords  of  the  world. 

"  Stout  heart  by  heart 
We  work  our  part 
That  light  may  broaden 
And  law  command. 
This  is  our  place 
By  right  of  race, 
By  God's  good  grace 
And  the  strength  of  our  hana. 

"  The  strength  of  our  hand 
Oil  every  land 
Tiil  t.ie  master-work 
Of  the  world  be  done: 
For  the  slave's  release, 
For  the  bond  of  peace. 
That  wars  may  cease__ 
From  under  the  sun." 

Jonathan  and  John 

Should  Jonathan  and  John  fall  out 
The  world  would  stagger  from  that  bout. 
With  John  and  Jonathan  at  one 
The  world's  great  peace  will  have  begun. 

With  Jonathan  and  John  at  war 
The  hour  that  havoc  hungers  for 
Will  strike,  in  ruin  of  blood  and  tears,— 
The  world  set  back  a  thousand  yean. 

With  John  and  Jonathan  sworn  io  stand 
Shoulder  to  shoulder,  hand  by  hand. 
Justice  and  peace  shall  build  their  throne 
From  tropic  sea  to  frozen  zone. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

When  Jonathan  and  John  forget 
The  icar  of  an  ancient  wound  to  fret, 
And  imile  to  think  of  an  ancient  feud 
Which  the  God  of  the  nations  turned  to  good; 

When  the  bond  of  a  common  creed  and  speech 
And  kindred  binds  them  each  to  each, 
And  each  in  the  other's  victories 
The  pride  of  his  own  achievement  sees,— 

How  paltry  a  thing  they  both  will  know 
That  grudge  of  a  hundred  years  ago, — 
How  small  that  blemish  of  wrath  and  blame 
In  the  blazonry  of  their  common  fame! 


"S 


Canada 

O  Child  of  Nations,  giant-limbed. 
Who  stand'st  among  the  nations  now 

Unheeded,  unadored,  unhymned. 
With  unanointed  brow, — 

How  long  the  ignoble  sloth,  how  long 
The  trust  in  greatness  not  thine  own  ? 

Surely  the  lion's  brood  is  strong 
To  front  the  world  alone! 

How  long  the  indolence,  ere  thou  dare 
Achieve  thy  destiny,  seize  thy  fame,— 

Ere  our  proud  eyes  behold  thee  bear 
A  nation's  franchise,  nation's  name  ? 

The  Saxon  force,  the  Celtic  fire. 
These  are  thy  manhood's  heritage! 

Why  rest  with  babes  and  slaves  ?    Seek  higher 
The  place  of  race  and  age. 

I  see  to  every  wind  unfurled 
The  flag  that  bears  the  Maple  Wreath; 


i«6  MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

Thy  iwift  keelt  furrow  round  the  world 
Itt  blood-red  folds  beneath; 

Thy  swift  keels  cleave  the  furthest  seM; 

Thy  white  sails  swell  with  alien  gales; 
To  stream  on  each  remotest  breeze 

The  black  smoke  of  thy  pipes  exhales. 

O  Falterer,  let  thy  past  convince 
Thy  future,— all  the  growth,  the  gain, 

The  fame  since  Cartier  knew  thee,  since 
Thy  shores  beheld  Champlain! 

Montcalm  and  Wolfe!    Wolfe  and  Montcalm! 

Quebec,  thy  storied  citadel 
Attests  in  burning  song  and  psalm 

How  here  thy  heroes  fell! 

O  Thou  that  bor'st  the  battle's  brunt 
At  Queenston,  and  at  Lundy's  Lane, — 

On  whose  scant  ranks  but  iron  front 
The  battle  broke  in  vain!— 

Whose  was  the  danger,  whose  the  day. 

From  whose  triumphant  throats  the  cheers, 

At  Chrysler's  Farm,  at  Chateauguay, 
Storming  like  clarion-bursts  our  ears  ? 

On  soft  Pacific  slopes, — beside 

Strange  floods  that  northward  rave  and  fall,- 
Where  chafes  Acadia's  chainless  tide— 

Thy  sons  await  thy  call. 

They  wait;  but  some  in  exile,  some 
With  strangers  housed,  in  stranger  lands, — 

And  some  Canadian  lips  are  dumb 
Beneath  Egyptian  sands. 

O  mystic  Nile!     Thy  secret  yields 
Before  us;  thy  most  ancient  dreams 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

Are  mixed  with  far  Canadian  fieldt 
And  Diurmur  of  Canadian  streamt. 

But  thou,  my  country,  dream  not  thou! 

Wake,  and  behold  how  night  is  done,- 
How  on  thy  breast,  and  o'er  thy  brow, 

Bursts  the  uprising  sun ! 


«»r 


An  Ode  for  the  Canadian  Confederacy 

Awake,  my  country,  the  hour  is  great  with  change! 

Under  this  gloom  which  yet  obscures  the  land. 
From  ice-blue  strait  and  stern  Laurentian  range 

To  where  giant  peaks  our  western  bounds  command, 
A  deep  voice  stirs,  vibrating  in  men's  ears 

As  if  their  own  hearts  throbbed  that  thunder  forth, 
A  sound  wherein  who  hearkens  wisely  hears 

The  voice  of  the  desire  of  this  strong  North, — 
This  North  whose  heart  of  fire 
Yet  knows  not  its  desire 
Clearly,  but  dreams,  and  murmurs  in  the  dream. 
The  hour  of  dreams  is  done.     Lo,  on  the  hills  the  gleam ! 

Awake,  my  country,  the  hour  of  dreams  is  done! 

Doubt  not,  nor  dread  the  greatness  of  thy  fate. 
Tho'  faint  souls  fear  the  keen  confronting  sun. 

And  fain  would  bid  the  morn  of  splendour  wait; 
Tho"  dreamers,  rapt  in  starry  visions,  cry 

"  Lo,  yon  thy  future,  yon  thy  faith,  thy  fame!  " 
And  stretch  vain  hands  to  stars,  thy  fame  is  nigh. 

Here  in  Canadian  hearth,  and  home,  and  name, — 
This  name  which  yet  shall  grow 
Till  all  the  nations  know 
Us  for  a  patriot  people,  heart  and  hand 
Loyal  to  our  native  earth,  our  own  Canadian  land! 

O  strong  hearts,  guarding  the  birthright  of  our  glory, 
Worth  your  best  blood  this  heritage  that  ye  guard! 


1*8 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 


These  mighty  streams  resplendent  with  our  story, 
These  iron  coasts  by  rage  of  seas  unjarred,— 

What  fields  of  peace  these  bulwarks  well  secure! 
What  vales  of  plenty  those  calm  floods  supply! 

Shall  not  our  love  this  rough,  sweet  land  make  sure. 

Her  bounds  preserve  inviolate,  though  we  die  ? 

O  strong  hearts  of  the  North, 

Let  flame  your  loyalty  forth, 

\nd  put  the  craven  and  base  to  an  open  shame. 

Till  earth  shall  know  the  Child  of  Nations  by  her  name! 


ii.  I 


Canadian  Streams 

O  RIVERS  rolling  to  the  sea 

From  lands  that  bear  the  maple-tree. 

How  swell  your  voices  with  the  strain 
Of  loyalty  and  liberty! 

A  holy  music,  heard  in  vain 

By  coward  heart  and  sordid  brain. 

To  whom  this  strenuous  being  seems 
Naught  but  a  greedy  race  for  gain. 

O  unsung  streams — not  splendid  themes 
Ye  lack  to  fire  your  patriot  dreams! 
Annals  of  glory  gild  your  waves, 
Hope  freights  your  tides,  Canadian  streams! 

St.  Lawrence,  whose  wide  water  laves 

The  shores  that  ne'er  have  nourished  slave*! 

Swift  Richelieu  of  lilied  fame! 
Niagara  of  glorious  graves! 

Thy  rapids,  Ottawa,  proclaim 
Where  Daulac  and  his  heroes  came! 

Thy  tides,  St.  John,  declare  La  Tour, 
And,  later,  many  a  loyal  name! 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

Thou  inland  stream,  whose  vales,  secure 
From  storm,  Tecumseh's  death  made  poor! 

And  thou  small  water,  red  with  war, 
'Twixt  Beaubassin  and  Beaus^jour! 

Dread  Saguenay,  where  eagles  soar. 
What  voice  shall  from  the  bastioned  shore 

The  tale  of  Roberval  reveal, 
Or  his  mysterious  fate  deplore  ? 

Annapolis,  do  thy  floods  yet  feel 
Faint  memories  of  Champlain's  keel, 

Thy  pulses  yet  the  deeds  repeat 
Of  Poutrincourt  and  D'Iberville  ? 

And  thou  far  tide,  whose  plains  now  beat 
With  march  of  myriad  westering  feet, 

Saskatchewan,  whose  virgin  sod 
So  late  Canadian  blood  made  sweet  ? 

Your  bulwark  hills,  your  valleys  broad, 
Streams  where  De  Salaberry  trod. 

Where  Wolfe  achieved,  where  Brock  was  slain  - 
Their  voices  are  the  voice  of  God!  ' 

O  sacred  waters!  not  in  vain, 
Across  Canadian  height  and  plain, 
Ye  sound  us  in  triumphant  tone 
The  summons  of  your  high  refrain. 

A  Song  for  April 

List!  list!    The  buds  confer. 
This  noonday  they  've  had  news  of  her; 
The  south  bank  has  had  views  of  her; 
The  thorn  shall  exact  his  dues  of  her; 

The  willows  adream 

By  the  freshet  stream 
Shall  ask  what  boon  they  choose  of  her. 


119 


I30  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

Up!  up!    The  world 's  astir; 

The  would-be  green  has  word  of  her; 

Root  and  germ  have  heard  of  her, 
Coming  to  break 
Their  sleep  and  wake 

Their  hearts  with  every  bird  of  her. 

See!  see!     How  swift  concur 
Sun,  wind,  and  rain  at  the  name  of  her, 
A-wondering  what  became  of  her; 
The  fields  flower  at  the  flame  of  her; 

The  glad  air  sings 

With  dancing  wings 
And  the  silvery  shnll  acclaim  of  her. 


The  Flocks  of  Spring 

When  winter  is  done,  and  April's  dawning 

Shatters  the  dark  of  the  year, 
And  the  rain-fed  rivulet  under  the  bridge 

Again  runs  clear. 

And  the  shepherd  sun  comes  over  the  hill 

To  let  out  the  flocks  of  Spring, 
With  laughter  and  light  in  the  pastures  of  air 

The  flocks  take  wing. 

They  scatter  on  every  lingering  wind, — 

The  perfume,  and  the  bee, 
And  the  whispers  of  the  jostling  grass, 

Glad  to  be  free. 

The  minstrelsy  of  the  shining  pools, 
The  dancing  troops  of  the  hours; 

And  over  the  sod  in  a  sudden  rapture 
Flame  the  flowers. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 
O  Clearest  Pool 
WhV*'V"  P°°l:  "y  wondering  joy 
From  the  troubled  world  of  men 
I  ve  come  back  to  thee  again 
I^sed  by  my  imperious  star 
I  ve  come  back  from  very  far 
Dusty  from  the  clash  of  2a„' 
Worn  wuh  life  and  love  ffiears. 

When  I  came  to  thee  of  old 

To  transfigure  earth  and  sky.  ^ 

Now  the  best  that  I  can  bring 
Seems  a  very  little  thing.       * 
Let  me  cast  it  all  away 
To  win  back  one  boyhood's  day. 
O'er  thy  globe  of  crystal  space 

Clearest  pool,  I  lean  my  face    * 
Wha's  the  happy  mask  I, ei 

Wisely  smilmg  back  on  me  ? 
Wh^iVJ'"'*  ^^''^  <=y«»  were  mine 

5"°7'"8'«s,  remembering  more 
How  enchanted  was  their  lore! 

Surely  mine,  this  weary  while 
Agone,  was  that  unshadowed  smile. 

All  my  boyhood  used  to  be. 

Keep  thy  waters,  clearest  pool 

Always  tranquil,  pure  and  cZ'. 
L  aJas.  must  turn  again 

To  the  troubled  world  of  men' 


131 


13* 


m 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

The  Trout  Brook 

The  airs  that  blew  from  the  brink  of  day 
Were  fresh  and  wet  with  the  breath  of  May. 
I  heard  the  babble  of  brown  brooks  falling 
And  golden-wings  in  the  woodside  calling. 

Bie  drops  hung  from  the  sparkling  eaves; 
And  through  the  screen  of  the  thin  young  leaves 
A  glint  of  ripples,  a  whirl  of  foam, 
Lured  and  beckoned  me  out  from  home. 

My  feet  grew  eager,  my  eyes  grew  wide, 
And  I  was  off  by  the  brown  brook  s  side. 
Down  in  the  swamp-bottom,  cool  and  dim, 
I  cut  me  an  alder  sapling  slim. 

With  nimble  fingers  I  tied  my  line. 
Clear  as  a  sunbeam,  strong  and  fine. 
My  fly  was  a  tiny  glittering  thing. 
With  tinsel  body  and  partridge  wing. 

With  noiseless  steps  I  threaded  the  wood. 
Glad  of  the  sun-pierced  solitude. 
Chattered  the  kingfisher,  fierce  and  shy. 
As  like  a  shadow  I  drifted  by. 

Lurked  in  their  watery  lairs  the  trout. 
But,  silver  and  scarlet,  I  lured  them  out. 
Wary  were  they,  but  warier  still 
My  cunning  wrist  and  my  cast  of  skill. 

I  whipped  the  red  pools  under  the  beeches; 
I  whipped  the  yellow  and  dancing  reaches. 
The  purple  eddy,  smooth  like  oil. 
And  the  tail  of  the  rapid  yielded  spoil. 

So  all  day  long,  till  the  day  was  done, 
I  followed  the  stream,  I  followed  the  sun. 
Then  homeward  over  the  ridge  I  went, 
The  wandering  heart  of  me  well  content. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

The  Atlantic  Cable 
This  giant  nerve,  at  whose  command 

It  threads  the  undiscerned  repose        ^^ 
Of  the  dark  bases  of  the  deep. 

Around  it  settle  in  the  calm 
Fine  tissues  that  a  breath  might  mar 

What  aessages  of  storm  and  war. 

^  F.'?nfr  '''.''here  filtered  gleams 
Faintly  illume  the  mid-sea  day, 

/T '  Pt""^  ^°"°'  °f  fish  o"-  weed 
in  the  obscure  tide  softly  sway. 

And  higher,  where  the  vagrant  waves 
Frequent  the  white,  in&erent  sun 
And  tJ.'l'i"'"  s-^oke-blue  hordes  o?'rai„ 
And  the  long  vapours  lift  and  run, 

^  w^.lP^'j^P.*  '°™«  '°"ely  ship 
Whn'i !*''{>''  '"'T^  *hat  homeward  ache  - 
While  far  beneath  is  flashed  a  word 
That  soon  shall  bid  them  bleed  or  break. 

Brooklyn  Bridge 

No  lifeless  thing  of  iron  and  stone. 

But  sentient,  as  her  children  are 
Nature  accepts  you  for  her  own, 

Kin  to  the  cataract  and  the  star. 

She  marks  your  vast,  sufficing  plan. 

Cable  and  girder,  bolt  and  rod 
Ana  takes  you,  from  the  hand  of  man 

As  some  new  handiwork  of  God.     ' 

You  thrill  through  all  your  chords  of  steel 
Responsive  to  the  living  sun, 


133 


•J4 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

Out  of  Pompeii 

SxvE  what  the  -gYltrrd 'alone""* 
And  .olemn  spund  ],Ss  tS«, 

The  sleepless  ocean  s  ceaseie.*     ~, 
The  surge's  monotone. 

Ab  from  the  brink  ot  hell, 
ArcWtSiojll'toiliK.i 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

O'er  all  the  unstable  vague  expanse 
I  towered  the  lord  supreme,  and  smiled; 

And  marked  the  hard,  white  sparkles  glance. 
The  dark  vault  wide  and  wild. 

Again  that  faint  wind  swept  my  face — 
With  hideous  menace  swept  my  eyes. 

I  cowered  back  in  my  straitened  place 
And  groped  with  dim  surmise, 

Not  knowing  yet.     Not  knowing  why, 
I  turned,  as  one  asleep  might  turn, 

And  noted  with  half  curious  eye 
The  figure  crouched  astern. 

On  heaped-up  leopard  skins  she  crouched, 
Asleep,  and  soft  skins  covered  her 

And  scarlet  stuffs  where  she  was  couched. 
Sodden  with  sea-water. 

Burned  lurid  with  black  stains,  and  smote 
My  thought  with  waking  pangs;  I  saw 

The  white  arm  drooping  from  the  boat. 
Round-moulded,  pure  from  flaw; 

The  yellow  sandals  even-thonged; 

The  fair  face,  wan  with  haunting  pain,— 
Then  sudden,  crowding  memories  thronged 

Like  unpent  sudden  rain. 

Clear-stamped,  as  by  white  lightning  when 
The  swift  flame  rends  the  night,  wide-eyed 

I  saw  dim  streets,  and  fleeing  men. 
And  walls  from  side  to  side 

Reeling,  and  great  rocks  fallen;  a  pall 
Above  us,  an  encumbering  shroud 

About  our  feet,  and  over  all 
The  awful  Form  that  bowed 


135 


136 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

Our  hearts,  the  fi«y  »courKe  '»•"  ™°»f. 

The  city,— the  red  Mount.    Clear,  clew 
I  saw  it,— and  this  lonely  boat, 

And  us  two  drifting  here! 

With  one  sharp  cry  I  sprang  and  hid 

Mv  face  among  the  skins  beside 
Her  feet,  and  held  her  safe,  and  chid 

Thetumu..  till  it  died. 

And  crouched  thus  at  her  rescued  feet. 

Save  her  low  breath,  I  heard  alone 
The  sleepless  ocean's  ceaseless  beat. 

The  surge's  monotone. 

Actaeon 

A  Woman  of  PUtsea  Speaks 

I  HAVE  lived  long,  and  watched  out  many  days. 
And  seen  the  show^s  fall  and  the  light  shine  down 
Equally  on  the  vile  and  righteous  head. 
I  have  lived  long,  and  served  the  gods  and  drawn 
Small  joy  and  liberal  sorrow.-scorned  the  gods, 
i^d  drawn  no  less  my  little  meed  of  good^^ 
Suffered  my  ill  in  no  more  grievous  measure. 
I  have  been  glad— alas,  my  foolish  people, 
1  have  beeS  |laa  with  you!     And  ye  are  glad. 
Seeing  the  gods  in  all  things,  praising  them 
In  ion  thei?  lucid  heaven,  this  green  world. 
The  moving  inexorable  sea,  and  wide 
Delight  of  noonday,-tiU  m  >gn°»"« 
Ye  err.  your  feet  transgress,  and  the  bolt  talis 
It  Tave  I  svng,  and  dreamed  that  they  would  hear, 
And  wowhipedT  and  made  offerings,-.!  may  be 
They  he^rdf  and  did  perceive,  anS  were  well  pleased,- 
A  little  music  in  their  ears,  perchance, 
A  erain  more  savour  to  their  nostrils,  sweet 
Tho-  sea"  e  accounted  of.     But  when  for  me 
The  mists  of  Acheron  have  striven  up, 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

RellilT"'  T  *'"*^  ^°"""^  ">=:  "'«''  ray  knee. 
A„H  „k;  '"''  '°k''"  '='*'''  speechless,  they  forgot 
And  when  my  sharp  cry  cut  the  moveless  nighf, 

An^  t^f  "k**  "'?*"■'  ""y  "^"'"g"  clamoured  up 

Thl   k".*."!."  •'  """'  8°'''«"  ■«""".  perchance 
They  shut  their  ears.     No  happy  muSic  this. 
Eddying  through  their  nectar  cups  and  calm! 
Ihen  I  cried  out  against  them.-and  died  not: 
And  rose,  and  set  me  to  my  daily  tasks. 
So  all  day  long,  with  bare,  uplift  right  arm, 
Drew  out  the  strong  thread  from  the  carded  wool. 

?n  nTn'l^^'  "/k'"P  "S"?'"'  l°'"'-b"ds,  and  serpents, 
In  purple  on  the  himation's  saffron  fold  • 
Nor  uttered  praise  with  the  slim-wristed  eirls 
10  any  god,  nor  uttered  any  prayer. 
Nor  poured  out  bowls  of  wine  and  smooth  bright  oil 
Nor  brake  and  gave  small  cakes  of  beaten  meS         ' 
And  honey,  as  tliis  time,  or  such  a  god 
Required;  nor  offered  apples  summei-flushed. 
Scarlet  pomegranates,  poppy-bells,  or  doves. 
AH  this  with  scorn,  and  waiting  all  day  lone. 
And  night  long  with  dim  fear,  afraid  of  sleep  - 
Seeing  I  fook  no  hurt  of  all  these  things 
And  seeing  mine  eyes  were  driid  of  their  tears 
bo  that  once  more  the  light  grew  sweet  for  me 
Once  more  grew  fair  the  fields  and  valley  streams 
I  thought  with  how  small  profit  men  take  heed      ' 
To  worship  with  bowed  heads,  and  suppliant  hands 
And  sacrifice,  the  everlasting  gods,  ' 

f^rf  '-.'l*  r?"  *'"'",8'''  °f  them  to  curse  or  bless. 
tL    "L'  ?•  i^^"  P'"'P'"  °f  perpetual  peace! 
Thus  blindly  deemed  I  of  them,— yet— and  vet- 
Have  late  well  learned  their  hate  is  swift  as  fire 
Be  one  so  wretched  to  encounter  it  •  ' 

Ay,  have  I  seen  a  multitude  of  good  deeds 
*Iy  up  in  the  pan  like  husks,  like  husks  blown  dry. 
Hereafter  let  none  question  the  high  gods' 

A?,i*"'°?u'^=  ^"'  '!:".*  watching  eyes  have  seen 

flctaeon,  thewed  and  sinewed  like  a  god, 

C^odhke  for  sweet  speech  and  great  deeds,  hurled  down 


>37 


138 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 


To  hideoui  death,— «:»rce  luffered  tptce  to  bretthe 
Ere  the  wild  heart  in  hif  changed,  (juivenng  aide 
Burst  with  mad  terror,  and  the  stag  s  wide  eyea 
Stared  one  sick  moment  'mid  the  dogs  hot  jawa. 


Cith«ron,  mother  mount,  set  steadfastly 
Deep  in  Boeotia.  past  the  utmost  roar 
Of  seas,  beyond  Corinthian  waves  withdrawn. 
Girt  with  green  vales  awake  with  brooks  or  still. 
Towers  up  mid  lesser-browed  Boeotian  hills— 
These  couched  like  herds  secure  beneath  its  ken— 
And  watches  earth's  green  comers.     At  mid-noon 
We  of  Platsea  mark  the  sun  make  pause 
Right  over  it,  and  top  its  crest  with  pride. 
Men  of  Eleusis  look  toward  north  at  dawn 
To  see  the  long  white  fleeces  upward  roll, 
Smitten  aslant  with  saffron,  fade  like  smoke. 
And  leave  the  grey-green  dripping  glens  all  out, 
The  drenched  slopes  open  sunward;  slopes  wherein 
What  gods,  what  godlike  men  to  match  with  gods. 
Have  roamed,  and  grown  up  mighty,  and  waxed  wise 
Under  the  law  of  him  wliom  gods  and  men 
Reverence,  and  call  Cheiron!     He,  made  wise 
With  knowledge  of  all  wisdom,  had  made  wise 
Actteon,  till  there  moved  none  cunninger 
To  drive  with  might  the  javelin  forth,  or  bena 
The  corded  ebony,  save  Leto's  son. 

But  him  the  Centaur  shall  behold  no  more 
With  long  stride  making  down  the  beechy  glade, 
Clear-eyed,  with  firm  lips  laughing,— at  his  heels 
The  clamour  of    is  fifty  deep-tongued  hounds. 
Him  the  wise  Centaur  shall  behold  no  more. 

I  have  lived  long,  and  watched  out  many  days. 
And  am  well  sick  of  watching.     Three  days  since, 
I  had  gone  out  upon  the  slopes  for  herbs, 
Snake-root,  and  subtle  gums;  and  when  the  light 


«39 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

Fell  •Untwi.e  through  the  upper  gleni,  and  mined 
JtZ''!'^  "Vine.  I  came  wKre  Si  the  Ml, 
»«]h  il"  '^^1'^  of  Gargaphian  streams. 
?hf-fw  K  ''"I'*  '"?'=''  *"  '*"""'  'he  valley  gleamed  - 
Thick  branches  rmged  them.     Scarce  a  ^wSot  n..» 

T/^lhr""' ■'"'*''  I'''  *°^»"  •«""  low-hung?""'  P-* 
Trembling  in  me«hes  of  the  woven  sun. 
A  yellow.sanded  pool,  shallow  and  clear. 
Lay  spark  mg  brown  about  the  further  bank 
From  scarlet-berried  ash-trees  hanirinB  over 
But  suddenly  the  shallow.  b?ake  K 

R?„.  1,     T  u*  '''""'  KO'^^"*  incorrupt. 

Bane  of  swift  beasts,  and  deadly  for  stra  nht  shaft 

Came  to  the  pool  from  the  hither  bank  to  bathe. 
Amid  her  maiden  company  she  moved. 

VnTno^TX°l^''^  J'^""*  '"'*'''"»  scattered  off. 

o„«rrd^i(°r^ 

Fr«h '  !k'""''**^  '''°"'^'  ""'*'"'  '•>«  morning's  blue  - 
Fresher  than  river  grasses  which  the  herds    *  ' 

Pluck  from  the  river  in  the  burning  noons. 
Iheir  tresses  on  the  summer  wind  they  flune- 
And  some  a  shining  yellow  fleece  let  fall 

nfJn    T  '  *•'"'>''  ""'«"'  ""^  while  hands 
Lifted  a  glooming  wealth  of  locks  more  dark 

Ind"sh"P.K"-  *"•'"•  *""  P"'P'«  '"  'he  sun. 
Stonrf  bi     fi^  ""I"*"'  °f  'he  heart  unstormed, 
Per?ec  Iv  fJf    .?  '5'^  ^".  """Preme.  and  still,     ' 
i;erfectly  fair  like  day,  and  crowned  with  hair 
The  colour  of  nipt  beech-leaves:     Ay,  such  hair 

n^  Tf",!.'."  '""  "^"^  ^  *"  '»<=h  as  these. 
J  let  It  fall  to  cover  me,  or  coiled 

ts  coll',  I'l''  ""*  u''°".'  "y  'hf°^'  ''nd  arms ; 
ButTn  ?h  *  "'?'  heech-leaves,  tawny  brown 
But  in  the  sun  a  fountain  of  live  gold. 


140 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 


\ 


Even  as  thu.  they  pUyed.  and  iome  «»!««»«'*• 
Upreached  white  arms  to  grasp  the  bemed  Mh, 
And,  plucking  the  bright  bunches,  shed  them  wide 
By  red  ripe  handfuls,  not  far  off  I  saw         _ 
With  long^tride  making  down  the  beechy  glade, 
dear-eyed,  with  firm  lips  laughmg.— at  his  heels 
The  clamour  of  his  fifty  deep-tongued  hounds, 
Actieon.     I  beheld  him  not  far  off, 
But  unto  bath  and  bathers  hid  from  view, 
Being  beyond  that  mighty  rock  whereon 
His  wont  was  to  lie  stretched  at  dip  of  eve. 
When  frogs  are  loud  amid  the  tall-plumed  sedge 
In  marshy  spots  about  Asopus'  bank,— 
Deeming  his  life  was  very  sweet,  his  day 
A  pleasfnt  one,  the  peopled  breadths  of  earth 
Most  fair,  and  fair  the  shining  tracts  of  sea; 
Green  solitudes,  and  broad  low-lying  plains 
Made  brown  with  frequent  labours  of  inen  s  hands, 
And  salt,  blue,  fruitless  waters.     But  this  mount, 
Cithseron,  bosomed  deep  in  soundless  hills. 
Its  fountiined  vales,  its  nights  of  starry  calm 
Its  high  chill  dawns,  its  long-drawn  goWe?.^^;;-, 
Was  dearest  to  him.     Here  he  dreamed  high  dreams, 
And  felt  within  his  sinews  strength  to  strive 
Where  strife  was  sorest,  and  to  overcome, 
And  in  his  heart  the  thought  to  do  great  deeds. 
With  power  in  all  ways  to  accomplish  them. 
For  had  not  he  done  well  to  men,  and  done 
Well  to  the  gods  ?    Therefore  he  stood  secure. 

But  him,-for  him-Ah  that  these  eyes  should  see!- 
Approached  a  sudden  stumbling  in  his  ways! 
Not  yet,  not  yet  ho  knew  a  god's  fierce  wrath 
Nor  wist  of  that  swift  vengeance  lymg  in  wait. 

And  now  he  came  upon  a  slope  of  sward 
Airainst  the  pool.     With  startled  cry  the  maids 
Shrank  clamouring  round  their  mistress,  or  made  flight 
To  covert  in  the  hazel  thickets.     She 
Stirred  not;  but  pitiless  anger  paled  her  eyes, 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 


M« 


iUi^^'  with  deadly  purpoie.     He,  »inazed, 

Kt^lLv  a'ln''"**  ""u-'  '"^""'^^  "hile  hi.  curl., 
Sun-lit,  lay  glorious  on  his  mighty  neck.— 

Ut  fall  his  bow  and  clanging  spear,  and  gazed 
g''««*'f'>  ecstasy;  nor  marked  th;  dogs 
Hush  their  deep  tongues,  draw  close,  and  ring  him  round 
And  fix  upon  him  strange,  red,  hungry  eyes,  ' 

And  crouch  to  spring.     This  for  a  moment.     Then 
It  «|emed.hni  strong  knees  faltered,  and  he  sank 
It?J  '"•''  °,Tr'°'  ""'■8'^'  »  shuddering  stag 
V^«^,T'  ""'l  ".P  °^"  ">«  ^°e»'  but  they     '^ 
fastened  upon  his  flanks  with  a  long  yell 

Be"neXhl    '  '}'°''J'',  '"'*  """  P'°"<*  ^'^^  ''««  down 
Beneath  their  wet,  red  fangs  and  reeking  jaws. 

I  have  lived  long  and  watched  out  many  days, 
N^r  u.    T.u**",l''\'  ""8*"  "  »*««  save  life. 
¥h.vl  r"*  '?t'  ''^'^">  °"'"  ^"d  than  death. 
Thick  norror  like  a  cloud  had  veiled  my  sight. 
That  for  a  space  I  saw  not,  and  my  ears 
Were  shut  from  hearing;   but  when  sense  grew  clear 
Once  more,  I  only  saw  the  vacant  pool      ^ 
Unnppled,— only  saw  the  dreadful  sward. 
n„yji      '^^  'ay.  gorged,  or  moved  in  fretful  search. 
Questing  uneasily ;  and  some  far  up  ' 

Ihe  slope,  and  some  at  the  low  water's  edge. 

U   L'h°v '"  'I*  •"?''  i"  ^"  ""^  '"'"'■"'"K  throats 
Uttered  keen  howls  that  smote  the  echoing  hills 

WheL'"«"i"'"'"'1'"'''  f°™-  "°'  undfrstook 

And  ,„^f  i"""  ""'^ 'h^  '"^'d,  the  hand  that  reared,- 

A»j      ,-     ^""^  ""^  "Pon  *he  homeless  pack 
And  pahng  stream  arose  a  noiseless  wind 
uut  of  the  yellow  west  awhile,  and  stirred 
'he  branches  down  the  valley;  then  blew  off 

IntoThlTVT*'''  'K^°"^  Srey  straits,  and  died 
xnto  the  dark,  beyond  the  utmost  verge. 


143 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 
Marsyas 


A  LITTLE  grey  hiU-glade  cloM-turfed,  withdrawn 
Bevond  resort  or  heed  of  trafficking  feet, 
Sed  round  with  slim  trunks  of  Ae  mountam  a,h. 
ThrSugh  the  slim  trunks  and  scarlet  bunches  flash- 
Beneath  the  clear  chill  glittermgs  of  the  dawn- 
Far  off,  the  crests,  where  down  the  rosy  shore 
The  Pontic  surges  beat. 
The  plains  lie  dim  below.     The  thm  a  rs  wash 
The  circuit  of  the  autumn-coloured  hilU, 
And  this  high  glade,  whereon  „  „„„ 

The  satyr  pipes,  who  soon  shall  pipe  no  more. 
He  sits  against  the  beech-tree's  mighty  bole,— 
He  leans,  and  with  persuasive  breathing  fills 
The  happy  shadows  of  the  slant-set  lawn. 
The  goat-feet  fold  beneath  a  gnarlid  root; 
Andlweet,  and  sweet  the  note  that  steals  and  thnlls 
From  slender  stops  of  that  shy  flute 
Then  to  the  goat-feet  comes  the  wide-eyed  fawn 
Hearkening;  the  rabbits  fringe  the  glade,  and  lay 
Theirlongears  to  the  sound; 
In  the  pale  boughs  the  partridge  gather  round. 
And  quaint  hern  from  the  sea-green  river  reeds, 
The  wild  ram  halts  upon  a  rocky  horn 
O'erhanging;  and,  unmindful  of  h's  Prey, 
The  leopard  steals  with  narrowed  lids  to  lay 
His  spotted  length  along  the  ground. 
The  thin  airs  wash,  the  thin  clouds  wander  by 
And  those  hushed  listeners  move  not      Al  the  mom 
He  pipes,  soft-swaying,  and  with  half-shut  eye, 
In  rapt  content  of  utterance,— 

nor  heeds 
The  young  God  standing  in  his  branchy  place, 
The  languor  on  his  lips,  and  in  his  face, 
Divinely  inaccesRible,  the  scorn. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

In  the  Afternoon 

Wind  of  the  summer  afternoon, 
Hush,  for  my  heart  is  out  of  tune! 

Hush,  for  thou  movest  restlessly 
The  too  light  sleeper,  memory! 

Whate'er  thou  hast  to  tell  me,  yet 

"T  were  something  sweeter  to  forget,— 

Sweeter  than  all  thy  breath  of  balm 
An  hour  of  unremembering  calm. 

Blowing  over  the  roofs,  and  down 
The  bright  streets  of  this  inland  town, 

These  busy  crowds,  these  rocking  trees— 
What  strange  note  hast  thou  caught  from  these  ? 

Anote  of  waves  and  rushing  tides. 
Where  past  the  dykes  the  red  flood  glides, 

To  brim  the  shining  channels  far 
Up  the  green  plains  of  Tantramar. 

Once  more  I  snuff  the  salt,  I  stand 
On  the  long  dykes  of  Westmoreland; 

I  watch  the  narrowing  flats,  the  strip 
Of  red  clay  at  the  water's  lip ; 

Far  off  the  net-reels,  brown  and  high. 
And  boat-masts  slim  against  the  sky; 

Along  the  ridges  of  the  dykes 
Wind-beaten  scant  sea-grait,  and  spikes 

Of  last  year's  mullein;  down  the  slopes 
To  landward,  in  the  sun,  thick  r<^>ei 


»43 


144 


jl     I 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

Of  blue  vetch,  and  convolvulus, 
And  matted  roses  glorious. 

The  liberal  blooms  o'erbrim  my  hands; 
I  walk  the  level,  wide  marsh-lands; 

Waist-deep  in  dusty-blossomed  grass 
I  watch  the  swooping  breezes  pass 

In  sudden,  long,  pale  lines,  that  flee 
Up  the  deep  breast  of  this  green  sea. 

I  listen  to  the  bird  that  stirs 

The  purple  tops,  and  grasshoppers 

Whose  summer  din,  before  my  feet 
Subsiding,  wakes  on  my  retreat. 

Again  the  droning  bees  hum  by; 
Still-winged,  the  grey  hawk  wheels  on  high; 

I  drink  again  the  wild  perfumes. 

And  roll,  and  crush  the  grassy  blooms. 

Blown  back  to  olden  days,  I  fain 
Would  quaff  the  olden  joys  agam; 

But  all  the  olden  sweetness  not 

The  old  unmindful  peace  hath  brought. 

Wind  of  this  summer  afternoon. 

Thou  hast  recalled  my  childhood's  June; 

My  heart— still  is  it  satisfied 
By  all  the  golden  summer-tide  ? 

Hast  thou  one  eager  yearning  filled, 
Or  any  restless  throbbing  stilled, 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

Or  hast  thou  any  power  to  bear 
Even  a  little  of  my  care  ? — 

Ever  so  little  of  this  weight 
Of  weariness  canst  thou  abate  ? 

Ah,  poor  thy  gift  indeed,  unless 
Thou  bring  the  old  child-heartedness,- 

And  such  a  gift  to  bring  is  given, 
Alas,  to  no  wind  under  heaven! 

Wind  of  the  summer  afternoon, 
Be  still;  my  heart  is  not  in  tune. 

Sweet  is  thy  voice;  but  yet,  but  yet— 
Of  all  t  were  sweetest  to  forget! 

On  the  Creek 

Dear  Heart,  the  noisy  strife 
And  bitter  carpings  cease 

Here  is  the  lap  of  life. 
Here  are  the  lips  of  peace. 

Afar  from  stir  of  streets, 

The  city's  dust  and  din. 
What  healing  silence  meets 

And  greets  us  gliding  in! 

Our  light  birch  silent  floats; 

Soundless  the  paddle  dips. 
Yon  sunbeam  thick  with  motes 

Athro'  the  leafage  slips. 

To  light  the  iris  wings 

Of  dragon-flies  alit 
On  lily-leaves,  and  things 

Of  gauze  that  float  and  flit. 


«4S 


146 


m' 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

Above  the  water'i  brink 

Hush'd  windi  make  summer  not. 
Our  thirsty  spirits  drink 

Deep,  deep,  the  summer  quiet. 

We  slip  the  world's  grey  husk. 
Emerge,  and  spread  new  plumes. 

In  sunbeam-fretted  dusk, 
Thro"  populous  golden  glooms, 

Like  thistledown  we  slide. 
Two  disembodied  dreams, — 

With  spirits  alert,  wide-eyed, 
Explore  the  perfume-streams. 

For  scents  of  various  grass 
Stream  down  the  veermg  breeze. 

Warm  puffs  of  honey  pass 
From  flowering  linden-trees; 

And  fragrant  gusts  of  gum. 
Breath  of  the  balm-tree  buds. 

With  fern-brake  odours,  come 
From  intricate  solitudes. 

The  elm-tops  are  astir 
With  flirt  of  idle  wmgs. 

Hark  to  the  grackles  '*r'.«n«.« 
Whene'er  an  elm-bough  swings. 

From  oft  yon  a»h-limb  sere 

Out-thrust  amid  green  braaches, 

Keen  like  an  azure  spear 
A  kingfisher  down  launchet. 

Far  up  the  creek  his  calU 
And  lessening  laugh  retreat. 

Again  the  silence  falls. 
And  soft  the  green  hours  fleet. 


M7 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

They  fleet  with  drowsy  hum 

Of  insects  on  the  wing. 
We  sigh-the  end  must  come' 

We  taste  our  pleasure's  sting. 

No  more,  then,  need  we  try 

The  rapture  to  regain. 
We  feel  our  day  slip  by, 
And  cling  to  it  in  vain. 

But  Dear,  keep  thou  in  mind 
1  hese  moments  swift  and  sweet' 

Their  memory  thou  shalt  find 
Ulume  the  common  street; 

And  thro'  the  dust  and  din. 

Smiling,  thy  heart  shall  hear 
Quiet  waters  lapsing  thin. 

And  locusts  shrilling  clear. 

Tantramar  Revisited 

"'"of'r  ^iTw"^"  '"^^  '="-•  -<»  «-e  with  the  flight 
Sunrtine  and  thunder  have  been,  storm,  «.d  winter,  «,d 

&H?— ^-^a:^S^:^tulded,or 

pSl^!~^^S-ws,- 
lere  where  the  road  7L.  k       V^^  ''"-  "°  change! 
,   valleys  a^dw,^"d,ands  '"""*''  '""^  '^'^^'^ 

'.p.^fromjhe  hill-tops  dolvn,  straight  to  the  base  of  the 

""hou^":  ""^  ""'^«-«'°""«J.  I  c«.  see  the  scattering 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 


148 

Stained  with  time,  «t  warn,  in  orchards,  meadows,  and 
DottrnVVhe  broad  bright  slopes  ontspread  to  southward 
and  eastward,  .  ,„„„  !,„  .he  south-east  wind. 

Sho^A:  labouring  gra«,^b^^^^^^^^^^ 
Fenced  on  ito  seaward  boraer  wun  iuur      , 

SurgrSd  flow  of  the  tides  vexing  the  Westmoreland 
Yonl«."toward  the  left,   lie   broad    the  Westmoreland 
marshes,  ,       j  grassy,  and  dim, 

S^:?fTorlhVK?'f;S«^^^^^  '»•«  ^^y  -  '^' 

SavelrheouUying  heights,  green-rampired  Cumberland 
MiJt'Ues  outrolled.  and  the  river-channels  divide 
Mile^oTmTles  of  green,  barred  by  the  hurtling  gusts. 

Miles  on  «»« ''"y-Vhmnflage's  gle"their  feet. 
There  are  the  low  blue  "'"^'^^'''X  water,  and  nearer 
^sT:r:t't.£;$Tr^^o.^^^^  boats  dry  on  t. 
Ah  SSw  well  I  remember  those  wide  red  flats,  above  t.d^ 

^^r^l^^lles^^^----' 

-^^krSn^s-SKss^ft^-- 

Over««Ved  hay  i-P^wi^-^e -a.^%tsi 
Blows  all  day  through  the  chmks,  wim 

Sof  t/;M?  Hey^heaped  in  the  gloom  of  a  lo. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 


'49 
Now  «_^.hi,  season  .he  reel,  are  empty  and  idle;  I  ,ee 

thro'  the  lonesome  ^       ^   "  *'  '""8  "''""K  "ind. 
them;  ^*  "*"*  '''"  J°"™ey  Homeward  above 

Kv^n^'soft  tey  %?„r  ■  f  '""  l*""  »'«•«  '°»8. 
wander,         "^^  "'"8"  °^  "narsh-owls  wander  and 

s'Tn/thl'o^  thAw-SmT  •'M"',^""'^  °^  »'^«  <^'''- 

of  morning  '  ^"'""'''' '"  ">«  '"^^  kwn  freshness 

Out  oMhe  teeth  of  the  dawn  blows  back  the  awakening 

"'"henunlighi"'  ^'  """'"'^'  '">'»  *«  'ow-hot  shaft,  of 
Glancejrom  the  tide  to  the  shore,  gossamers  Jewelled  with 
Sparkle  and  wave,  where  late  sea-spoiling  fathoms  of  drift- 
Myriad-meshed,  uploomed  sombrely  over  the  land 
^'elU  remember  it  all.    The  salt,  raw  scent  of  the  mar- 
Wh.le,  with  men  at  the  windlass,  groaned  each  reel,  and  the 

""'Zioir^''"''"'  '^"«*'"''  "P--  -«'  coiled  in  its 
Then  each  man  to  his  home.-well  I  remember  it  all! 

'",cV..-  """  ""'=''■  *'^  P'^™'  peace  of  the  land- 

More^than  the  old-time  stir  this  stillness  welcomes  me 
"•  "'  "'^-'^^  ''"'  '^—c e  it  stung  me  with  rapture,- 


,50  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

.1.-  «mil«  freiaVited  with  honey  and 
Old-time  iweetnesi,  the  winds  ireignxcu 

»»'"  .    .  .„A  not  SO  down  to  the  manh- 

Yet  will  I  »tay  my  »"P*  "»**  ""*  ^° 

M«sl"ni7ecall  far  oM^b- --^«^  ^Z^' 
^;^rtrutlSL%v.^UrX'£^drof  enhance  and  change. 

Salt 

O  BMATH  of  wind  and  aea. 

Bitter  and  clear, 
Now  my  faint  soul  springs  tree. 

Blown  cleai>  tiom  fear! 

0  hard  sweet  strife,  O  sting 
Of  buffeting  salt! 

Doubt  and  despair  take  wing, 
Failure,  and  fault. 

1  dread  not  wrath  or  wrong,— 

^mile  and  am  free; 
StS  while  the  wind,  are  strong. 

The  rocks,  the  sea. 

Heart  of  my  heart,  tho'  Ufe 

Front  us  with  storm, 
Love  will  outlast  the  strife, 

More  pure,  more  warm. 

Severance 

Tm  tide  falls,  and  the  night  falls, 
And  ;^  «  wiAd  blows  in  from  the  sea 

And  the  bell  on  the  bar  it  calls  and  calls. 
And  the  wild  hawk  cries  from  his  tree. 

The  late  crane  calls  to  his  fellows  gone 
In  long  flight  over  the  sea, 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

And  mjr  heart  with  the  craoe  flie«  on  and  on 
Seeking  iti  rest  and  thee.  * 

B,.»  k    I  ?  '""*  "'*»  ''»<=k  oversea, 

F„,  1.    K  *"  "°'  ">'.''*»«  f^™  h'»  far-off  land 
For  he  bringi  not  thee  to  me. 

The  Valley  of  the  Winding  Water 
Ti«  valley  of  the  winding  water 
c.n   *"  't*  ■■'""  "ght  it  wore  of  old 
Of°H- *:**  P""!*''  P^ks  the  portal. 
Of  distance  and  desire  unfold: 

Still  break  the  fields  of  opening  June 
To  emerald  in  their  aniienttiy. 

The  sapphire  of  the  summer  heaven 
IS  infinite,  as  yesterday. 

^'jL'y"  "«  on  the  greening  earth. 
The  exultant  bobolinks  wild  awing- 

And  yet,  of  all  this  kindly  gladness 
My  heart  beholds  not  inythin|. 

^o'l"  «  «U1  room  far  away, 

1  see,  to-day,  a  woman  dead. 

Ebb 

The  tide  goes  out,  the  tide  goes  out-  once  more 
The  empty  day  go«s  down  the  empty  shore 

The  tide  goes  out;  the  wharves  deserted  lie 
Under  the  empty  solitude  of  sky 

Whh'lh^  f,^T'u°"*'  ""  fJ^indling  channels  ache 
With  the  old  hunger,  with  the  old  heartbreak 


«S« 


IS* 


m 


Ui^^A 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

The  tide  goet  out;  the  lonely  waitej  of  wnd 

Implore  the  benediction  of  thy  hand. 

The  tide  goet  out,  goei  out;  the  rtwnded  ihipi 
Deiire  the  sea,— and  1  detire  thy  lipi. 

The  tide  goes  out,  the  tide  goes  out;  the  sun 
Relumes  the  hills  of  longing  one  by  one. 

The  tide  goes  out,  eoes  out;  and  goes  my  he"* 
On  the  long  quest  that  ends  but  where  thou  art. 

Trysting  Song 

Dear!  Dear! 
As  the  night  draws  nigh  draw  near. 
The  world  "s  forgotten; 

Work  is  done; 
The  hour  tor  loving 

Is  begun. 

Sweet!  Sweet! 
It  is  !ove-time  when  we  meet. 
The  iiush  of  desire 

Falls  with  the  dew. 
And  all  the  evening 
Turns  to  you. 

Child!  Child! 
With  the  warm  heart  wise  and  wUd. 
My  spirit  trembles 

Under  your  hand; 
You  look  in  my  eyes 

And  understand. 

Mine!  Mine! 
Mistress  of  mood  divine. 
What  lore  of  the  ages 

Bids  you  know 
The  heart  of  a  man 
Can  love  you  so  ? 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 
Love's  Translator 

^M^it'  •*''"'  '"*^"  '*'''•<>"  «he  milt, 
My  longing  eyes  believe 

Flashing  from  thy  sleeve. 

And  when  the  tall  white  lily  sways 
Upon  her  queenly  stalk, 

Uown  the  garden  walk.  »  "  *" 

^'"' '•<=''  ''ith  ro,e,  a  wandering  air 
Breathes  up  the  leafy  place. 

B?nl"°"""'yP«^"°'«d»'air 
™own  across  my  face. 

And  when  the  thrush's  golden  note 
Across  the  gloom  is  htard, 

U«,ri^  J'  "*''  '"'P«»'o'>ed  throat 
uttenng  one  sweet  word. 

And  when  the  scarlet  poppy-bud 
A  nuAA^I:  '""''"''"K  °f  the  south, 
^Thter^T^LVm^out"^"'-' 

;'A^b::::a're^-!:-is§^''''^°«^«^^ 

I  see  some  dear,  remembered,  white 
Gesture  of  thy  hand. 

Wonder  and  love  upon  me  wait 

In  service  fair,  when  I 
Into  thy  sweetness  thus  translate 

tarth  and  air  and  sky. 


'5J 


IS4 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 
Grey  Rocks  and  Greyer  Sea 

Gmy  rocki,  and  greyer  sea. 
And  »urf  along  the  ihore — 

And  in  my  heart  a  name 
My  lips  shall  speak  no  more. 

The  high  and  lonely  hills 
Endure  the  darkening  year— 

And  in  my  heart  endure 
A  memory  and  a  tear. 

Across  the  tide  a  sail 
That  tosses,  and  is  gfmt — 

And  in  my  heart  the  kiss 
That  lon^ng  dreams  upon. 

Grey  rocks,  and  greyer  sea. 
And  surf  along  the  shore — 

And  in  my  heart  the  face 
That  I  shall  see  no  more. 

A  Song  of  Cheer 

Th«  winds  are  up  with  wakening  day 

And  tumult  in  the  tree; 
Across  the  cool  and  open  sky 

White  clouds  are  streaming  free; 
The  new  light  breaks  o'er  flood  and  field 

Clear  like  an  echoing  horn. 
While  in  loud  flight  the  crows  are  blown 

Athwart  the  sapphire  mom. 

What  tho'  the  maple's  scarlet  flame 

Declares  the  summer  done, 
Tho*  finch  and  starling  voyage  south 

To  win  a  softer  sun ; 
What  tho'  the  withered  leaf  whirls  by 

To  strew  the  purpling  stream,— 


I  I 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 


TheMrefofthegoIdenrod 
-./^f'K'onowonthehillt. 
*  no  itorm  and  lou  aDnrn>..h   .1. 

A  Serenade 

And  for  jov  the  night.  **    '^' 

^'^^•«:'°'hydiVa«  chamber 
wingg  my  loul  itt  flight. 

^C^VX^nrter-^'P-not.- 

°Drifu  mvT'^  ■?'*  "■'""  river 

fender  murmurs  float, 

Tender  breaths  of  glade  and  forest 
Breezes  of  perfume;-  *' 

^7«'{';«'"«|y'hou  canst  hear  me 
In  thy  quiet  room! 

^f°'^^^''  «d  «ky.  and  silence. 

Low  I  pour  my  song. 
All  the  spell   the  summer  sweetness  - 

These  to  thee  belong         "^"e**.— 


»5S 


IS* 


h»'s'i 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

Thou  art  love,  the  trance  and  rapture 
Of  the  midnight  clear '.  ....  .u 

Sweet,  tho-  world  on  world  withhold  thee, 
I  can  clasp  thee  here. 

Birch  and  Paddle 

To  Bliss  Carman 

Friend,  those  delights  of  ours 
Under  the  sun  and  showers,— 

Athrough  the  noonday  blue 
Sliding  our  light  canoe. 

Or  floating,  hushed,  at  eve. 
Where  the  dim  pine-tops  gneve! 

What  tonic  days  were  they 

Where  shy  streams  dart  and  play,- 

Where  rivers  brown  and  strong 
As  caribou  bound  along. 

Break  into  angry  parle 
Where  wildcat  rapids  snarl. 

Subside,  and  like  a  snake 
Wind  to  the  quiet  lake. 

We  "ve  paddled  furtively. 

Where  gTant  boughs  hide  the  sky,- 

Have  stolen,  and  held  our  breath. 
Thro'  coverts  still  as  death,— 

Have  left  with  wing  u"?*'"*"* 
The  brooding  phoebe-bira, 

And  hardly  caused  a  care 
In  the  water-spider  s  lair. 


I 


i 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

For  love  of  his  dear  pipe 

We  ve  flushed  the  zigzag  snipe,— 

Have  chased  in  wilful  mood 

The  wood-duck's  flapping  brood,— 

Have  spied  the  antlered  moose 
Cropping  the  young  green  spruce, 

And  watched  him  till  betrayed 
By  the  kingfisher's  sharp  tirade. 

Quitting  the  bodeful  shades 
We  ve  run  thro'  sunnier  glades, 

And  dropping  craft  and  heed 
Have  bid  our  paddles  speed. 

Where  the  mad  rapids  chafe 
We  ve  shouted,  steering  safe,— 

With  sinew  tense,  nerve  keen, 
Shot  thro'  the  roar,  and  seen. 

With  spirit  wild  as  theirs. 

The  white  waves  leap  like  hares. 

And  then,  with  souls  grown  clear 
m  that  sweet  atmosphere, 

With  influences  serene 

Our  blood  and  brain  washed  clean, 

We  've  idled  down  the  breast 
Of  broadening  tides  at  rest, 

And  marked  the  winds,  the  birds, 
The  bees,  the  far-off  herds. 

Into  a  drowsy  tone 
Transmute  the  afternoon. 


»S7 


158 


m 


Wi 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

So,  Friend,  with  ears  and  eye* 
Which  ihy  divinitiei 

Have  opened  with  their  kiw. 
We  need  no  balm  but  thu, — 

A  little  space  for  dreams 
On  care-unsullied  streams, — 

•Mid  task  and  toil,  a  space 
To  dream  on  Nature's  face! 


fT 


July 

I  AH  for  the  open  meadows, 

Open  meadows  full  of  sun. 
Where  the  hot  bee  hugs  the  clover. 

The  hot  breezes  drop  and  run. 

I  am  for  thi  uncut  hayfields 

Open  to  the  cloudless  blue,— 
For  the  wide  unshadowed  acres 

Where  the  summer's  pomps  renew; 

Where  the  grass-tops  gather  purple, 
Where  the  oxeye  daisies  thrive, 

And  the  mendicants  of  summer 
Laugh  to  feel  themselves  alive; 

Where  the  hot  scent  steams  and  quivers, 
Where  the  hot  saps  v.iriU  and  stir, 

Where  in  leaf-cells'  green  pavilions 
Quaint  artificers  confer; 

Where  the  bobolinks  are  merry. 
Where  the  beeUes  bask  and  gleam, 

Where  above  the  powdered  blossotw 
Powdered  moth- wings  poise  and  dream. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

Where  the  bead-eyed  mice  adventure 
In  the  grass-roots  green  and  dun. 

Life  IS  good  and  love  is  eager 
In  the  playground  of  the  sun! 

The  Cricket 

Oh,  to  be  a  cricket, 

That  'a  the  thing! 
To  scurry  in  the  grass 

And  to  have  one's  fling! 
And  it  's  oh,  to  be  a  cricket 
In  the  warm  thistle-thicket, 

Where  the  sun-winds  pass, 

Winds  a-wing, 
And  the  bumble-bees  hang  humminit 

Hum  and  swing. 
And  the  honey-drops  are  coming! 

It  's  to  be  a  summer  rover. 
That  can  see  a  sweet,  and  pick  it 
With  the  sting! 
Never  mind  the  sting! 

And  it  's  oh,  to  be  a  cricket 

In  the  clover! 

A  gay  summer  rover 
In  the  warm  thistle-thicket. 
Where  the  honey-drops  are  coming, 
Where  the  bumble-bees  hang  humming- 

That  's  the  thing!  ^ 

An  August  Wood  Road 

When  the  partridge  coveys  fly 
In  the  birch-tops  cool  and  high; 

When  the  dry  cicadas  twang 
Where  the  purpling  fir-cones  hang; 


>S9 


.¥, 


,6o  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

When  the  bunch-berries  emboss — 
Scarlet  beads— the  roadside  moss; 

Brown  with  shadows,  bright  with  sun, 
All  day  long  till  day  is  done 

Sleeps  in  murmuring  solitude 

The  worn  old  road  that  threads  the  wood. 

In  its  deep  cup— grassy,  cool- 
Sleeps  the  little  roadside  pool; 

Sleeps  the  butterfly  on  the  weed. 
Sleeps  the  drifted  thistle-seed. 

Like  a  great  and  blazing  gem, 
Basks  the  beetle  on  the  stem. 

Up  and  down  the  shining  rays 
Dancing  midges  weave  their  maze. 

High  among  the  moveless  boughs, 
Drunk  with  day,  the  night-hawks  drowse. 

Far  up,  unfathomably  blue, 
August's  heaven  vibrates  through. 

The  old  road  leads  to  all  things  g<H>d; 
The  year  's  at  full,  and  time  's  at  flood. 


Apple  Song 

O  THE  sun  has  kissed  the  apples, 

Kissed  the  apples; 
And  the  apples,  hanging  mellow, 

Red  and  yellow. 
All  down  the  orchard  seen 
Make  a  glory  in  the  green. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

The  sun  has  ki«secl  the  apples 
Kissed  the  apples- 

And  the  hollow  barrels  wait 
By  the  gate. 

/„'?«  c'der-presses  drip 

With  nectar  for  the  lip. 

The  sun  has  kissed  the  apples. 

Kissed  the  apples  • 
And  the  yellow  miles  of  grain 

Forget  the  rain. 
The  happy  gardens  yet 
1  he  winter's  blight  forget. 

The  sun  has  kissed  the  apples 
Kissed  the  apples- 
^'■'he  marsh  the  cattle  spread. 
White  and  red. 
Thy  sky  is  all  as  blue 
As  a  gentian  in  the  dew. 

The  sun  has  -jissed  the  api>les, 

Kissed  the  apples; 
And  the  maples  are  ablaze 

Through  the  haze. 
Th(;  crickets  in  their  mirth 
*!' .  the  fruiting  song  of  earth. 

The  sun  has  kissed  the  apples. 

Kissed  the  apples - 
Now  with  flocking  call  and  stir 

Birds  confer, 
As  if  their  hearts  were  crost 
By  a  fear  of  coming  frost. 

O  the  sun  has  kissed  the  apples 
Kissed  the  apples;  ' 

And  the  harvest  air  is  sweet 
On  the  wheat. 

Delight  is  not  for  long,— 

Give  us  laughter,  give  us  song' 


i«l 


I<3 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 
Before  the  Breath  of  Storm 


Befom  the  breath  of  storm, 
While  yet  the  long,  bright  afternoons  are  warm, 
Under  this  stainless  arch  of  azure  sky 
The  air  is  filled  with  gathering  wings  tor  flight; 
Yet  with  the  shrill  mirth  and  the  loud  delight 
Comes  the  foreboding  sorrow  of  this  cry— 
"  Till  the  storm  scatter  and  the  gloom  dispel. 
Farewell!     Farewell! 
Farewell!  " 

Why  will  ye  go  so  soon, 
In  these  soft  hours,  this  sweeter  month  than  June  ? 
The  liquid  air  floats  over  field  and  tree 

A  veil  of  dreams;— where  do  ye  find  the  sting  ? 
A  gold  enchantment  sleeps  upon  the  sea 

And  purple  hills;— why  have  ye  taken  wing  ? 
But  faint,  far-heard,  the  answers  fall  and  swell— 
"Farewell!     Farewell! 
Farewell!  " 

The  Falling  Leaves 

Lightly  He  blows,  and  at  His  breath  they  fall. 

The  perishing  kindreds  of  the  leaves;  they  drift. 
Spent  flames  of  scarlet,  gold  agrial, 

Across  the  hollow  year,  noiseless  and  swift. 
Lightly  He  blows,  and  countless  as  the  falling 

Of  snow  by  night  upon  a  solemn  sea. 
The  ages  circle  down  beyond  recalling. 

To  strew  the  hollows  of  Eternity. 
He  sees  them  drifting  through  the  spaces  dim, 
And  leaves  and  ages  are  as  one  to  Him. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 
Ay]esford  Lake 

AllS  ILt"***.""  "f  number; 

Watching  where  the%avS«ache. 

Hold  communion  with  thT.ky!- 
Soon  mygpi^ij  grows  serener. 
Infhl"'^T?''  ^'''°"  keener 
i-eace  and  Wisdom  venture  nigh. 

Beside  the  Winter  Sea 

My  e^n'd-wot^dwTS  '"rf  ''«-««> 
How  many  m7lesrSow?„tn,  '^l  'T''-''""  =""»<> 
And  thou  beside  the  winttr'^.T, "'*""'  "^■ 
B^^rS  tri-liP?  ^"°;' %  race. 
And  grey  the  Sllen;."',-  f^'="'"8  coming  on; 
Solemnljbreaks  the'^io^i'*'"  '""'  T""''  "^y  f^^c. 

y^sfieda^d-loVery'^tK's"!!"'' 
Vet  h.w  unlike  the  wLtrytaTd;7airr 


««3 


i64 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

What  summer  joy  would  lighten  '°  «[ '"J^  ^^^th 
£r^t"et,'r:'«d©o;'«i^! 

The  Brook  in  February 

A  SB  r  »  P«th  for  squirrel  and  fo«. 

I      .ids  between  the  wintrv  firfc 
St  A   a-Hed  are  its  iron  rocks, 

ilad  o%r  its  stillness  nothmg  stirs. 

But  low.  bend  low  a  listening  ear! 
^"Sth  the  tnask  of  «»°vekss  7^'" 
A  babbling  whisper  you  shall  hear 
dfbirds  and  Wossoms.  leaves  and  hght. 

Ice 

WH.«  Winter  «-«8^  *«  ^o^td  Su'wilf. ''" 
^"he  ;U^%S.tKSd!  and  stood  stiU.- 

^K^U  himself  a  rn^^^^^J  ffH', 
Irised  with  memories  »' «°l"/„;^^^  ' 
Wherein  to  sit  and  watch  the  fury  pas* 

The  Silver  Thaw 

Thbm  came  a  day  of  showers 

Upon  the  shrinking  snow 
The  south  wind  sighed  of  flowers, 

The  softening  skies  hung  low. 
Midwinter  for  a  space 
Foreshadowing  Apnl  «*»«•.„„ 
The  white  world  caug^ht  the  fancy. 
And  would  not  let  it  ■»■ 


i 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

'n  »«w«kened  courses 
The  brooks  rejoiced  the  land. 

Were  gathering  close  at  hand. 
1  he  dripping  buds  were  stirred. 
AS  If  the  sap  had  heard 
The  long-desired  persuasion 
Of  April's  soft  command. 

^"iL?u''u  '''''"*  •'"<'  cheated 
With  hope's  elusive  gleam. 

riPj"!,""""  ^P""8'  defeated. 
AnH      ^°*"."?e  *ay»  of  dream. 
And  ;.-  the  night  the  reign 
Of  winter  came  again, 
With  frost  upon  the  forest 

And  stillness  on  the  stream. 

When  mom  in  rose  and  crocus 

Came  up  the  bitter  sky 
Celestial  beams  awoke  us' 

To  wondering  ecstasy. 
The  wizard  Winter's  spell 
Had  wrought  so  passing  well, 
That  earth  was  bathed  in  glory. 

As  If  God's  smile  were  nigh: 

"^  w"^T-^  "P""8''  bending, 

Flashed  in  a  rain  of  gems. 
The  statelier  trees,  attending. 

Blazed  in  their  diadems, 
wnite  fire  and  amethyst 
AH  common  things  had  kissed, 
And  chrysolites  and  sapphires 
Adorned  the  bramble-stems. 

In  crystalline  confusion 

All  beauty  came  to  birth 
It  was  a  kind  illusion 

To  comfort  waiting  earth— 


««S 


i66 


MISCELLANEOUS  POBUS 

To  bid  the  buds  forget 
The  tpring  »o  diiiant  yet, 
And  heart!  no  more  remember 
The  iron  »eaion'i  dearth. 

At  the  Drinking  Fountain 

The  Lily  of  the  Valley 

Did  Winter,  letting  fall  in  vain  «gret 
A  tear  among  the  tender  leaves  of  May, 

Embalm'  tTe  trfbute,  lest  she  m.ght  forget, 
In  this  elect,  imperishable  way  ? 

^'xf^^K^^s^.nsa&our, 

And  whispei  to  the  unwondering  ear  of  sleep 
Some  shy  desire  that  turned  into  a  flower  ? 

The  Wild-Rose  Thicket 

Whfie  humming  flies  frequent,  and  where 

Pink  petals  open  to  the  air. 

The  wild-rose  thicket  seems  to  be 

The  summer  in  epitome. 

Amid  its  gold-green  coverts  meet 
The  late  dew  and  the  noonday  heat; 
Around  it,  to  the  sea-rim  harsh. 
The  patient  levels  of  the  marsn. 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

And  o'er  it  pale  the  heaveni  bent, 
Half  sufferance  and  half  content 


i«7 


The  Hawkbit 

How  sweetly  on  the  autumn  scene, 
When  haws  are  red  amid  the  green. 
The  hawkbit  shines  with  face  of  cheer. 
The  favourite  of  the  faltering  yesr! 

When  days  grow  short  and  nights  grow  cold 
How  fairly  gleams  its  eye  of  gold. 
On  pastured  field  and  grassy  hill, 
Along  the  roadside  and  the  rill! 

It  seems  the  spirit  of  a  flower. 
This  offspring  of  the  autumn  hour. 
Wandering  back  to  earth  to  bring 
Some  kindly  afterthought  of  spring. 

A  dandelion's  ghost  might  so 
Amid  Elysian  meadows  blow. 
Become  more  fragile  and  more  fine 
Breathing  the  atmosphere  divine. 

The  Hermit-Thrush 

Over  the  tops  of  the  trees, 

And  over  the  shallow  stream. 
The  shepherd  of  sunset  frees 

The  amber  phantoms  of  dream 
The  time  is  the  time  of  vision; 

The  hour  is  the  hour  of  calm; 
Hark!  On  the  stillness  Elysian 
Breaks  how  divine  a  psalm! 
Oh,  clear  in  the  sphere  of  the  air. 

Clear,  clear,  tender  and  far. 
Our  aspiration  of  prayer 
Unto  eve's  clear  star  I 


MIOIOCOPY   (ESOIUTION   TEST  CHAIT 

(ANSI  and  ISO  TEST  CHART  No   2) 


A  /APPLIED    IIVMGE      Inc: 

a^.  1653  Easl  Msin   5trMt 

F--=  RoctiMt«r.  New  York        U609       USA 

^B  (716)  *82  -  0300  -  Phone 

ass  (716)   28B  -  5989  -  Fox 


i68 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

O  singer  serene,  secure! 

From  thy  throat  of  silver  and  dew 
What  transport  lonely  and  pure, 
Unchanging,  endlessly  new,— 
An  unremembrance  of  mirth, 

And  a  contemplation  of  tears. 
As  if  the  musing  of  earth 
Communed  with  the  dreams  of  the  years. 
Oh,  dear  in  the  sphere  of  the  atr, 

Clear,  clear,  tender  and  far. 
Our  aspiration  of  prayer 
Unto  eve's  clear  star  ! 

O  cloistral  ecstatic!  thy  cell 

In  the  cool  green  aisles  of  the  leaves 
Is  the  shrine  of  a  power  by  ^^hose  spell 

Whoso  hears  aspires  and  believes. 
O  hermit  of  evening!  thine  hour 

Is  the  sacrament  of  desire, 
When  love  hath  a  heavenlier  flower, 
And  passion  a  holier  fire!  . 

Oh,  clear  in  the  sphere  of  the  air. 

Clear,  clear,  tender  and  far. 
Our  aspiration  of  prayer 
Unto  eve's  clear  star  ! 


The  Night-Hawk 

WHEN  frogs  make  merry  the  pools  of  May, 
And  sweet,  oh,  sweet. 
Through  the  twilight  dim 
Is  the  vesper  hymn 
Their  myriad  mellow  pipes  repeat 
As  the  rose-dusk  dies  away. 
Then  hark,  the  night-hawk! 

(For  now  is  the  elfin  hour.) 
With  melting  skies  o'er  him. 
All  summer  before  him. 
His  wild  brown  mate  to  adore  mm, 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

By  the  spell  of  his  power 

He  summons  the  apples  in  flower. 

In  the  high  pale  heaven  he  flits  and  calls; 
Then  swift,  oh,  swift, 
On  sounding  wing 
That  hums  like  a  string, 
To  the  quiet  glades  where  the  gnat-clouds  drift 
And  the  night-moths  flicker,  he  falls. 
Then  hark,  the  night-hawk! 

(For  now  is  the  elfin  hour.) 
With  melting  skies  o'er  him, 
All  summer  before  him, 
His  wild  brown  mate  to  adore  him, 
By  the  spell  of  his  power 
He  summons  the  apples  in  flower. 


169 


When  the  Clover  Blooms  Again 

*'  When  the  clover  blooms  again. 

And  the  rain-birds  in  the  rain 
Make  the  sad-heart  noon  seem  sweeter 
And  the  joy  of  June  completer, 

I  shall  see  his  face  again!  " 

Of  her  lover  over  sea 

So  she  whispered  happily; 
And  she  prayed,  while  men  were  sleeping, 
"  Mary,  have  him  in  thy  keeping 

As  he  sails  the  stormy  sea!  " 

White  and  silent  lay  his  face 
In  a  still,  green-watered  place. 

Where  the  long,  grey  weed  scarce  lifted, 

And  the  sand  was  lightly  sifted 
O'er  his  unremembering  face. 


I70 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 
The  Bird's  Song,  The  Sun,  and  the  Wind 

Tkb  bird's  song,  the  sun,  and  ^e  YI":^";::,, 
The  wind  that  rushes,  the  sun  that  is  still, 

The  song  of  the  bird  that  sings  a'one, 
And  wide  light  washing  the  lonely  hill! 

The  spring  -s  coming,  the  buds  and  the  brooks— 
The  brooks  that  clamour,  the  buds  m  the  ram, 

The  coming  of  spring  that  comes  unprayed  for, 
And  eyes  that  welcome  it  not  for  pain! 

Oh,  Purple  Hang  the  Pods  1 

Oh,  purple  hang  the  pods 

On  the  green  locust-tree. 
And  yellow  turn  the  sods 

On  a  grave  that  's  dear  to  me! 

And  blue,  softly  blue, 

The  hollow  autumn  sky. 
With  its  birds  flying  through 

To  where  the  sun-lands  he! 

In  the  sun-lands  they  'U  bide 
While  winter  's  on  the  tree;— 

And  oh,  that  I  might  hide 
The  grave  that 's  dear  to  me! 

An  Evening  Communion 

The  large  first  stars  come  out 

Above  the  open  hill. 
And  in  the  west  the  light 

Is  lingering  still. 

The  wide  and  tranquil  air 

Of  evening  washes  cool 
On  open  hill,  and  vale, 

And  shining  pool. 


ind 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

The  calm  of  endless  time 
,„J'  '»  "le  spacious  hour, 
Whose  mystery  unfolds 
To  perfect  flower. 

The  silence  and  my  heart 
Expect  a  voice  I  know,— 

A  voice  we  have  not  heard 
Smce  long  ago. 

Since  long  ago  thy  face, 
Thy  smile,  I  may  not  see. 

True  comrade,  whom  the  veil 
Divides  from  me. 

But  when  earth's  hidden  word 

I  almost  understand, 
I  dream  that  on  my  lips 

I  feel  thy  hand. 

Thy  presence  is  the  light 

Upon  the  open  hill. 
Thou  walkest  with  me  here. 

True  comrade  still. 

My  pain  and  my  unrest 
Thou  tak'st  into  thy  care. 

The  world  becomes  a  dream. 
And  life  a  prayer. 

A  Wake-up  Song 

Leave  your  coverlets  ,    ,,te  and  downy 
June  s  come  into  the  world  this  roornine. 
Wake  up,  Golden  Head!     Wake  up,  Brownie! 

Dew  on  the  meadow-grass,  waves  on  the  water 
n^°,^^  '"  «''V°«'an.tree  wondering  about  you' 
nl^,T  "^«  buttercups  so  long  waiting.     ^ 
Don  t  keep  the  bobolinks  singing  without  you. 


171 


i7» 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 

Wake  up,  Golden  Head!     Wake  up.  Brownie! 

rat  bird  wants  you  in  the  garden  soon. 
You  and  I  but  erfl°e.,  bobolinks,  and  clover. 

We  "ve  a  lot  to  do  on  the  first  of  June. 

Sleepy  Man 

WHKK  the  Sleepy  Man  --^j^Ve/ryT  "  "'  ''" 
He  shrupThn^r'Sr.  ^ndTe  olfZy. 
"*  *    (So  Eush-a-by.  weary  my  Dearie!) 

He  smiles  through  his  fingers.  ^-^  '^u»  up  the  sun; 

(Oh  weary,  my, Dearie,  so  weary.) 
The  stirs  thlt  he'ioves  he  lets  out  one  by  one. 

(So  hush-a-by,  weary  my  Dearie!) 

He  comes  from  the  castles  of  D^sy^^^^  Town; 

(Oh,  weary,  ™y„^ear.e  so  weary  )         ^^^ 
At  the  touch  of  his  hand  the  «'f'=°  %;"ft 

(So  hush-a-by,  weary  my  Deune!) 

He  comes  with  a  -""«  "j^f  rwi"^')""'' 

(So  hush-a-by,  weary  my  Dearie .) 
Then  the  top  is  a  b^den.  the  bugle  a  bane 

When  Z^Si^^^^r^iM^--^  ^"'^' 
(So  hush-a-by,  weary  my  Dearie.) 

When  one  would  be  -"^i"?  »  ^ujl^^^^^ 

ICih   wearv.  my  Dearie,  so  "C"";  •' 
To  SleSy  Man-7cas?le  by  Comforting  Ferry. 
^°       (Eo  hush-a-by,  weary  my  Dearie!) 


MISCELIiANEOUS  POEMS 

The  Stack  behind  the  Barr 

Sbptembkr  is  here,  with  the  ripened  seedi. 
And  the  homely  smell  of  the  autumn  weeds. 
My  heart  goes  back  to  a  vanished  day. 
And  I  am  again  a  boy  at  play 
In  the  stack  behind  the  bam. 

Dear  memory  of  the  old  home-farm,— 
The  hedge-rows  fencing  the  crops  from  harm. 
The  cows,  too  heavy  with  milk  for  haste 
The  barn-yard,  yellow  with  harvest  waste 
And  the  stack  behind  the  barn.  ' 

?""":  «rir?  ^^"  *••*  °'<'  Karden-smell. 
Sweet  WiUiam  and  phlox  that  I  loved  so  well 
And  the  seeding  mint,  and  the  sage  turned  grey 
But  dearer  the  smell  of  the  tumblld  hay         ^' 
In  the  stack  behind  the  barn. 

In  the  side  of  the  stack  we  made  our  nest, 

A  thirtt?  7'  \^'  P'^house  we  loved  the  best. 
A  thicket  of  goldenrod,  bending  and  bright, 
Filled  us  with  glory  and  hid  us  from  sight 
In  the  stack  behind  the  bam. 

Then,  when  the  stack,  with  the  year,  ran  low. 
And  our  frosty,  moming  cheeks  were  aglow. 
When  time  had  forgotten  the  dropping  leaves. 
What  joy  to  drop  from  the  barn's  wide  eaves        . 
I  o  the  stack  behind  the  barn ! 

0  childhood  years !     Your  heedless  feet 

Have  slipped  away  with  how  much  that  S  sweet' 
•But  dreams  and  memory  master  you 
Till  the  make-believe  of  Life  is  through 

1  still  may  play  as  the  children  do 
In  the  stack  behind  the  barn. 


'73 


174 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 
The  Farmer's  Wnter  Morning 

Tmk  wide  white  world  is  bitter  still, 
^"(of  tS'e  snow  lies  deep  in  the  bani-y«d.) 
And  the  dawn  bites  hard  on  the  naked  hill, 
A^d  he  Sitchen  s^okefrom  the  ch.mney  carls 
Unblown,  and  hangs  with  a  hue  of  pearls. 
(Oh,  the  snow  lies  deep  in  the  barn-yard.) 

The  polished  well-iron  bums  like  a  brand. 

(Oh,  the  frost  is  white  on  the  latch.) 
The  horses  neigh  for  their  m^t"  s  hand. 
In  the  dusky  stable  they  paw  the  floor 
As  his  steps  come  crunching  up  » '^e  door. 

(Oh,  the  frost  is  white  on  the  latch.) 

In  the  high,  dim  uarn  the  smell  of  the  hay 
(Oh,  the  snow  lies  deep  in  the  barn-yard  ) 

Breathes  him  the  breath  of  a  summer  s  day. 

The  cows  in  their  stanchions  heavily  rise 

And  watch  him  with  slow,  expectant  eyes 
(Oh,  the  snow  lies  deep  in  the  barn-yard.) 

Into  the  mangers,  into  the  stalls, 

(Oh,  the  frost  is  white  on  the  latch.) 

The  fodder,  cheerily  rustling,  falls.        _ 

Ind  the  soind  of  the  feeding  fills  the  air 

As  the  sun  looks  in  at  the  window-square. 

(Oh,  the  frost  is  white  on  the  latch.) 

With  a  rhythmic  din  in  the  echoing  tins 
(Oh  the  snow  lies  deep  in  the  barn-yard.) 

The  noise  of  the  milking  soon  begins. 

With  deepening  murmur  up  to  the  brims 

The  foamy  whiteness  gathers  and  swims. 
(Oh,  the  snow  lies  deep  ni  the  barn-yard.) 

When  'the  ice  is  chopped  at  tV>«  grel'^^''"'  ""^ 

(Oh,  the  frost  is  white  on  the  latch.) 
The  cattle  come  lazily  out  to  drmk; 


1 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS  ,75 

And  the  fowls  come  out  on  the  sun-lit  straw  — 
For  the  sun  't  got  high,  and  the  south  eaves' thaw. 
\  And  the  frost  is  gone  from  the  -atch.) 

In  the  Barn-yard's  Southerly  Corner 

When  the  frost  is  white  on  the  fodder-stack 
The  haws  m  the  thorn-bush  withered  and  black. 
When  the  near  fields  flash  in  a  diamond  mail 
And  the  far  hills  glimmer  opaline  pale, 
Oh,  merrily  shines  the  morning  sun 
In  the  barn-yard's  southerly  comer. 

When  the  ruts  in  the  cart-road  ring  like  steel 
And  the  birds  to  the  kitchen  door  come  for  their  meal. 
And  the  snow  at  the  gate  is  lightly  drifted 
And  over  the  wood-pile  thinly  sifted. 
Oh,  merrily  shines  the  morning  sun 
In  the  barn-yard's  southerly  comer. 

When  the  brimming  bucket  steams  at  the  well 
And  the  axe  on  the  beech-knot  sings  like  a  bell. 
When  the  pond  is  loud  with  the  skaters'  calls. 
And  the  horses  stamp  in  the  littered  stalls, 
Oh,  merrily  shines  the  morning  sun 
In  the  barn-yard's  southeriy  comer. 

When  the  hay  lies  loose  on  the  wide  bam-floor 
And  a  sharp  smell  puffs  from  the  stable  door.  ' 
When  the  pitchfork  handle  stings  in  the  hand 
And  the  stanchioned  cows  for  the  milking  stand, 
Uh,  merrily  shines  the  morning  sun 
In  the  barn-yard's  southerly  corner. 

And  the  steers,  let  out  for  a  drink  and  a  run 
Seek  the  warm  corner  one  by  one, 
And  the  huddling  sheep,  in  their 'dusty  white 
Nose  at  the  straw  in  the  pleasant  light. 
When  merrily  shines  the  morning  sun 
In  the  barn-yard's  southerly  comer. 


ij6 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

Bringing  Home  the  Cows 

When  potatoes  were  in  blo««oin, 
When  the  new  hay  filled  the  mows, 

Sweet  the  paths  we  trod  together, 
Bringing  home  the  cows. 

What  a  purple  kissed  the  pasture. 
Kissed  and  blessed  the  alder-boughs. 

As  we  wandered  slow  at  sundown. 
Bringing  home  the  cows! 

How  the  far-off  hills  were  gilded 
With  the  light  that  dream  allows. 

As  we  built  our  hopes  beyond  them. 
Bringing  home  the  cows! 

How  our  eyes  were  bright  with  visions, 
What  a  meaning  wreathed  our  brows. 

As  we  watched  the  cranes,  and  Imgered, 
Bringing  home  the  cows! 

Past  the  years,  and  through  the  distance, 
Throbs  the  memory  of  our  vows. 

Oh,  that  we  again  were  children. 
Bringing  home  the  cows! 

The  Logs 

In  thronged  procession  gliding  slow 
The  great  logs  sullenly  seaward  go. 

A  blind  and  blundering  multitude 
They  jostle  on  the  swollen  flood. 

Nor  guess  the  inevitable  fate 
To  greet  them  at  the  river-gate 

When  noiseless  hours  have  lured  them  down 
To  the  wide  booms,  the  busy  town, 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

The  millij  the  chains,  tl.e  screaming  jaws 
Of  the  eviscerating  saws. 

Here  in  the  murmur  of  the  af-im 
Slow  journeying,  perchance  they  dream, 

..   -v. 
And  hear  once  more  their  branches  sigh 
Far  up  the  solitary  sky, 

Once  more  the  rain-wind  softly  moan 
Where  sways  the  high  green  top  alone, 

Once  more  the  inland  eaglu  call 

From  the  white  crag  that  broods  o'er  all. 

But  if,  beside  some  meadowy  brink 
Where  flowering  willows  lean  to  drink, 

^ome  open  beach  at  the  river  bend 
Where  shallows  in  the  sun  extend, 

They  for  a  little  would  delay, 
The  huge  tide  hurries  them  away. 

Up  and  Away  in  the  Morning 

"T'^, 's  at  full;  the  waves  break  white 
(Oh,  up  and  away  in  the  morning !) 

Blue  IS  the  blown  grass,  red  is  the  height; 

Wf^hed  with  the  sun  the  saU  shines  white 
(Oh,  up  and  away  in  the     oming!) 

Wide  is  the  world  in  the  laughing  sun 
tOh,  up  and  away  in  the  morning!) 
Work  s  to  be  done  and  wealth  's  to  be  won 
Ere  a  man  turn  home  with  the  homing  sun 
(Oh,  up  and  away  in  the  morning!) 


«77 


«7» 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

Long  it  the  heart'*  hope,  long  a»  the  day 

(Oh,  up  and  away  in  the  morning!) 
Heart  ha.  its  will  «ndhand  haa  itiway 
Till  the  world  rolls  over  and  ends  the  day 
(Oh,  up  and  away  in  the  morning!) 

It 's  home  that  we  toil  for  all  day  long 
(Oh   up  and  away  in  the  mommg!) 
Hand  on  the  line  and  heart  in  the  song, 
The  labour  of  love  will  not  seem  long 
(Oh,  up  and  away  in  the  mommg!) 

Home,  Home  in  the  Evening 

Vv'HEN  the  crows  fly  in  from  sea 

(Oh,  home,  home  in  the  -vemng!) 
My  love  in  his  boat  comes  back  to  me. 
Over  the  tumbling  leagues  of  sea 
(Oh,  home,  home  in  the  evening!) 

And  when  the  sun  drops  over  the  hill 

(Oh,  home,  home  in  the  evening!) 
My  happy  eyes  they  take  their  fill 
Of  watching  my  love  as  he  climbs  the  hiU 
(Oh,  home,  home  ia  the  evening!) 

And  when  the  dew  falls  over  the  land 
(Oh,  home,  home  in  the  evening!) 
I  hold  in  my  hand  his  dearest  hand, 
The  happiest  woman  in  all  the  land 
(Oh,  home,  home  in  the  evening!) 

All  day  she  sang  by  the  cottage  door. 

(Oh,  home,  home  in  the  evening!) 
At  sundown  came  his  boat  to  the  shore- 
But  he  to  the  hearthside  comes  no  more. 

Home,  home  in  the  evening. 


MISCELLANEOUS   POEMS 
Mothers 

Ofthat  anguiih  wert  thou  fain, 

How  thou  imiledst  in  thy  woe 
Every  mother's  heart  doth  kno*. 

Mary,  when  the  helpless  Child 

In  ,h  J*      '^"^  •lumbered  at  thy  breast 

In  the  rosy  form  and  mild 

Surh  ."     °";*»  '•'«  Heavenly  Guest  ? 
Such  a  guest  from  Paradise 
Waddens  every  mother's  eyes. 

Brother  Cuthbert 

CuTHBERT.  open!     Let  me  in! 

Here  the  darkness  seems  to  grin. 
Holds  a  thousand  horrors  In  it; 
Down  the  stony  corridor 
Footsteps  pace  the  stony  floor. 

Monk-hke,  one  behind  another!- 
Don  t  you  hear  me  ?    Don 't  you  know 

wL^  "  ''"''  ","^°"'''  Brother  ? 

Won  t  you  speak  ?    Then,  by  your  leave 

Here  's  a  guest  for  Christmas  Eve!  ' 

Shrive  me,  but  I  got  a  fright! 
..Monks  of  centuries  ago 
Wander  back  to  see  to-night 

ThUfh.  i.^  °\^  P'""  looks._Hello! 
This  the  kind  of  watch  you  keep! 
Come  to  pray-and  go  to  sleep! 


«7» 


tSe 


it 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

Ah.  this  mortal  flesh  is  weak! 

Who  is  saintly  there  's  no  saying. 
Here  are  tears  upon  his  cheek. 

And  he  sleeps  that  should  be  prayir^;- 
Sleeps,  and  dreams,  and  murmurs.  Nay, 
I  -11  not  wake  you.— Sleep  away! 

Holy  saints,  the  night  is  keen! 

How  the  nipping  wind  does  drive 
Through  yon  tree-tops,  bare  and  lean, 

Till  their  shadow  seems  alive,— 
Patters  through  the  bars,  and  falls, 
Shivering,  on  the  floor  and  walls! 

How  yon  patph  of  freezing  sky 
Echoes  back  their  bell-ringings! 

Down  in  the  grey  city,  nigh 
Severn,  every  steeple  swings. 

All  the  busy  streets  are  bright. 

Many  folk  are  out  to-night. 

-What  -s  that,  Brother  ?    Did  you  speak  ?- 
Christ  save  them  that  talk  in  sleep! 

Smile  they  howsoever  meek, 

Somewhat  in  their  hearts  they  keep. 

JVe,  iood  souls,  what  shifts  we  make 

To  keep  talking  whilst  awake! 

Christ  be  praised,  that  fetched  me  in 

Early,  yet  a  youngling,  while 
All  unlearned  in  life  and  sin. 

Love  and  travail,  grief  and  guUe! 
For  your  world  of  two-score  years, 
Cuthbert,  all  you  have  is  tears. 

Dreaming,  still  he  hears  the  beUs 

As  he  heard  them  years  ago. 
Ere  he  sought  our  quiet  cells 

Iron-mouthed  and  wrenched  with  woe, 
Out  of  what  dread  storms  who  knows— 
Faithfulest  of  friends  and  foes! 


•I 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

Pitiful,  and  kind,  and  wise; 
But  m  mindful  moods  I  've  sMn 

Prf^r.'SV^I!^.'' '"  *^°«  sunk  eyes' 
PI?l  ^"i*  Chnst,  whose  timely  hand 
Plucked  from  out  the  fire  this  braSd! 

Hence  he  -s  back  in  Ireland. 
Ah  how  tenderly  he  smiles, 
B.^l""*'^  ^'"8  a  caressing  hand! 
Backward  now  his  memory  glides 
To  old,  happy  Christmas-tides 

Now  once  more  a  loving  wife 
Smn«  ,'.    ,?V"?"'  ^^  ««  his  boys. 

«?„M  '^"'  f '''^"''  "'"h  and  noise- 
Softly  now  she  strokes  his  hair  -  ' 
An,  their  world  is  very  fair! 

—Waking,  all  your  loss  shall  be 

Unforgotten  evermore' 
Sleep  alone  holds  these  for  thee 

Sleep  then,  Brother!— To  restore 
All  your  heaven  that  has  died 
Heaven  and  Hell  may  be  too  wide! 

^'H?k'"*^o  *■*.*?•  *°^  ^  ""hile 
Sn^n'^P'^'m""'?*"'  °n<:e  again! 

In^"  "  J"^*'  "'"'  "«e  to  smile. 
Yot^JiT  ''T'  ""  ""k  with  pain! 
You  will  hear  the  merry  town,-*^ 
And  a  weight  will  press  you  down. 

Hungry-hearted  you  will  see 

Only  the  thin  shadows  fall 
From  yon  bleak-topped  poplar-tree,- 

Icy  fingers  on  the  wall  ' 

TenJi"  ^""^  ""■»  =°™«  «nd  go, 
Telling  o'er  your  count  of  woe 


i8i 


,8,  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

—Nay,  now,  hear  me,  how  I  prate! 

I,  a  foolish  monk,  and  old. 
Maundering  o'er  a  life  and  fate 

To  me  unknown,  by  you  untold! 
Yet  I  know  you  're  like  to  weep 
Soon,  so.  Brother,  this  night  sleep. 

The  Departing  of  Gluskap 

It  is  so  long  ago;  and  men  well-nigh 
Forget  what  gladness  was,  and  how  the  earth 
Gave  com  in  plenty,  and  the  rivers  fish. 
And  the  woods  meat,  before  he  went  away. 
His  going  was  on  this  wise. 

All  the  works 
And  words  and  ways  of  men  and  beasts  became 
Evil,  and  all  their  thoughts  continually 
Were  but  of  evil.     Then  he  made  a  feast. 
Upon  the  shore  that  is  beside  the  sea 
That  takes  the  setting  sun,  he  ordered  it. 
And  called  the  beasts  thereto.     Only  the  men 
He  calkd  not,  seeing  them  evil  utterly. 
He  fed  the  panther's  crafty  brood,  and  filled 
The  lean  wolf's  hunger;  from  the  hollow  tree 
His  honey  stayed  the  bear's  terrific  ]aws; 
And  the  brown  rabbit  couched  at  peace,  within 
The  circling  shadow  of  the  eagle  s  wings. 
And  when  the  feast  was  done  he  told  them  all 
That  now,  because  their  ways  were  evil  grown. 
On  that  same  day  he  must  depart  from  them. 
And  they  should  look  upon  his  face  no  more. 
Then  all  the  beasts  were  very  sorrowful. 

It  was  near  sunset,  and  the  wind  was  still. 
And  down  the  yellow  shore  a  thin  wave  washed 
Slowly    a^d  Gluskip  launched  his  birch  canoe 
And  spread  his  yellow  sail,  and  moved  from  shot 
Thougrno  wind  followed,  streaming  in  the  sail, 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 


183 


Then  li  th.  "V  "°°°  ^y  ">«  »h°«.  and  watched 
Then  to  the  west  appeared  a  long  red  trail  *"""■■ 
Over  the  wave;  and  Gluskip  saifed  and   ang 

In^  Ki  '"u""'  F^*  ""'«=•  "ke  a  bird,  '^ 

And  black,  and  vanished  in  the  shin  me  trail 

Thev^n."  '^',^1^''  '?"'''  ^«  his  form  no  more 
They  s  11  could  hear  him,  singing  as  he  sail^ 
And  st.ll  they  listened,  hinging  lown  thei?  hekds 

Bu   whVnThe"*""'.*'.'  '••""  " '^^  washed  and  fled. 
Thev  Hfted  un  ?r'^  of  smgjng  died,  and  when 
iney  lifted  up  their  voices  in  their  grief, 
Lo!  on  the  mouth  of  every  beast  a  strange 
New  tongue      Then  rose  they  all  and  fled  aoart 
Nor  met  again  in  council  from  that  day      ^     ' 

The  Lone  Wharf 

The  long  tides  sweep 

Around  its  sleep. 
The  long  red  tides  of  Tantramar 

Around  its  dream 

They  hiss  and  stream. 
Sad  for  the  ships  that  have  sailed  afar. 

^ow  many  lips 

Have  lost  their  bloom. 
How  many  ships 

Gone  down  to  gloom. 
Since  keel  and  sail 

Have  fled  out  from  me 
Over  the  thunder  and  strain  of  the  sea  I 

Its  kale-dark  sides 

Throb  in  the  tides ; 
The  long  winds  over  it  spin  and  hum: 

Its  timbers  ache 

For  memory's  sake, 
And  the  throngs  that  never  again  will  come. 


i84 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

Haw  many  lips 

Have  lost  their  bloom. 
How  many  skips 

Gone  down  to  gloom. 
Since  keel  and  sail 

Have  fled  out  from  me 
Over  the  thurder  and  strain  of  the  sea  I 

The  Banquet 

Though  o'er  the  board  the  constellations  shine, 
Austere  the  feast  for  Time's  retainers  spread,— 

Laughter  the  salt  of  life,  and  love  the  wine, 
Sllep  the  sweet  herbs,  and  work  the  bitter  bread. 

The  Stirrup  Cup 

Life  at  my  stirrup  lifted  wistful  eyes, 
And  as  she  gave  the  parting  cup  to  me,— 
Death's  pale  companion  for  the  «'en' sea^— 

"  I  know,'*  she  said,  "  that  land  and  where  it  lies. 
A  pledge  between  us  now  before  you  go,  , 

That  wten  you  meet  me  there  your  soul  may  know! 

Life  and  Art 

Said  Life  to  Art—"  I  love  thee  best 

Not  when  I  find  in  thee 
My  very  face  and  form,  expressed 

With  dull  fidelity, 

"  But  when  in  thee  my  craving  ey=s 

Behold  continually 
The  mystery  of  my  memories 

And  all  I  long  to  be." 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

Dream-Fellows 

Behind  the  veil  that  men  call  sleep 

1  came  upon  a  golden  land. 
A  golden  light  was  in  the  leaves 

And  on  the  amethystine  strand. 

Amber  and  gold  and  emerald 

The  unimaginable  wood. 
And  in  a  joy  1  could  not  name 

Beside  the  emerald  stream  I  stood. 

Down  from  a  violet  hill  came  one 
Running  to  meet  me  on  the  shore. 

1  dasped  his  hand.     He  seemed  to  be 
One  I  had  long  been  waiting  for. 

All  the  sweet  sounds  I  ever  heard 
In  his  low  greeting  seamed  to  blend. 

His  were  the  eyes  of  my  true  love. 
His  was  the  mouth  of  my  true  friend. 

We  spoke;  and  the  transfigured  words 
Meant  more  than  words  had  ever  meant. 

Our  lips  at  last  forgot  to  speak, 
For  silence  was  so  eloquent. 

We  floated  in  the  emerald  stream; 

We  wandered  in  the  wondrous  wood. 
His  soul  to  me  was  clear  as  light. 

My  inmost  thought  he  understood. 

Only  to  be  was  to  be  glad. 

Life,  like  a  rainbow,  filled  our  eyes. 
In  comprehending  comradeship 

Each  moment  seemed  a  Paradise. 

And  often,  in  the  after  years, 
I  and  my  dreim-fellow  were  one 

For  hours  together  in  that  land 
Behind  the  moon,  beyond  the  sun. 


185 


i86  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

At  last,  in  the  tumultuous  dream 
That  men  call  life,  I  chanced  to  be 

One  day  amid  the  city  throng 
Where  the  great  piers  oppose  the  sea. 

A  giant  ship  was  swinging  off 
For  other  seas  and  other  skies. 

Amid  the  voyaging  companies 
I  saw  his  face,  I  saw  his  eyes. 

Oh,  passionately  through  the  crowd 
I  thrust,  and  then — our  glances  met! 

Across  the  widening  gulf  we  gazed, 
With  white,  set  lips,  and  eyes  grown  wet. 

And  all  day  long  my  heart  was  faint 
With  parting  pangs  and  tears  unwept; 

Till  night  brought  comfort,  for  he  came 
To  meet  me,  smiling,  when  1  slept. 

Beyond  the  veil  that  men  call  sleep 
We  met,  within  that  golden  land. 

He  said— or  I—"  We  grieved  to-day. 
But  now,  more  wise,  we  understand! 

"  Communing  in  the  common  world. 
The  flesh,  for  us,  would  be  a  bar. 

Strange  would  be  our  familiar  speech; 
And  earth  would  seem  no  more  a  star. 

•'  We  'd  ktow  no  more  the  golden  leaves 
Beside  the  amethystine  deep; 

We  'd  see  no  more  each  other's  thought 
Behind  the  veil  that  men  call  sleep!  " 


The  Hermit 

Above  the  blindness  of  content. 
The  ignorance  of  ease. 

Inhabiting  within  his  soul 
A  shrine  of  memo*  ies, 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

Between  the  silences  of  sleep 
Attentively  he  liears 

The  spending  of  the  years. 

He  sees  the  lapsing  stream  go  by 

His  unperturbed  face 
Out  of  a  dark,  into  a  dark. 

Across  a  lighted  space. 

l/pon  the  moving  flood. 
«e  sees  the  water  white  with  tears. 
He  sees  it  red  with  blood. 

And  many  specks  upon  the  tide 
MnTf  *%"  "J"^  ™*'''*  ^y  name.— 
And  challengers  of  fame; 

With  here  a  people,  there  a  babe. 
A  blossom,  or  a  cro-vn,— 

0?;!:^.^'  H'i^''^'  K'-^*".  >nd  pass. 
Or  in  the  eddies  drown. 

n.-!.^^'"?  '°""''  ^he  darknesses. 
Dissolve  into  a  dream. 

The  Wrestler 
^HE.  God  sends  out  His  company  to  travel  through  the 
There  is  every  kind  of  wonder  in  the  sho»,. 


187 


i88 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 


But  the  best  drawing  card  i»  the  Wrestler  huge  and  hard, 
Who  can  fill  the  tent  at  any  time  of  year. 

His  eye  is  on  the  crowd,  and  he  beckons  with  his  hand, 

With  authoritative  finger,  and  they  come. 
The  rules  of  the  game  they  do  not  understand, 

But  they  go  as  in  a  dream,  and  are  dumb. 
They  would  fain  say  him  nay,  and  they  look  the  other  way. 

Till  at  last  to  the  ropes  they  clmg. 
But  he  throws  them  one  by  one  till  the  show  for  them  is 
done. 

In  the  blood-red  dust  of  the  nng. 

There  's  none  to  shun  his  challenge— they  must  meet  him 
soon  or  late,  „  .     , 

And  he  knows  a  cunning  trick  for  all  heels. 
The  king's  haughty  crown  drops  in  jeers  from  his  pate 

As  the  hold  closes  on  him,  and  he  reels. 
The  burly  and  the  proud,  the  braggarts  of  the  crowd. 

Everyone  of  them  he  topples  down  in  thunder. 
His  grip  grows  mild  for  the  dotard  and  the  child, 

But  alike  they  must  all  go  under. 

Oh,  many  a  mighty  foeman  would  try  a  fall  with  him;— 

Persepolis,  and  Babylon,  and  Rome, 
Assyria  and  Sardis,  they  ?ee  their  fame  grow  dim 

As  he  tumbles  in  the  dust  every  dome. 
At  last  will  come  an  hour  when  the  stars  shall  feel  his 
power, 

And  he  shall  have  his  will  upon  the  sun. 
Ere  we  know  what  he  's  about  the  lights  will  be  put  out, 

And  the  wonder  of  the  show  will  be  undone. 

Beyond  the  Tops  of  Time 

How  long  it  was  I  did  not  know. 
That  I  had  waited,  watched,  and  feared. 

It  seemed  a  thousand  years  ago 
The  last  pale  lights  had  disappeared. 


S'Si 


MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

f  tI^"*^  V  '  P'"*=*  "'«»  *  nwrow  room 
Up.  up  beyond  the  rewh  of  doJ.m 

Then  came  a  light  more  red  than  flame- 

was  high  above  the  reach  of  doom. 
Windows  there  were  in  either  wall 

Wh^ere?ht^-HTta^';?h:fth'''^^""^^^^^^ 
^  The  age.  iitLru'p'a'nd  p«T°""'""'  '»"• 

A  sea  of  faces  then  I  saw. 

G.ve  us  the  dream  for  which  we  died!" 
Ev-er  the  woven  shapes  rolled  bv 

Above  the  faces  hungering    ^ 
Wth  quiet  and  incurious  e/e 
S«.  J?f  *?  ""^"7  *  w'ondrous  thine  - 

^'|jf,^°^"rda„dchrysoprase 

Oive  us  the  dream  for  which  we  died!  " 
At  length  my  quiet  heart  was  stirred 


•89 


1(0  MISCELLANEOUS  POEMS 

That  should  traniUte  them  from  their  pain 
I  «aw  that  here  and  there  a  face 
Shone,  and  waa  lifted  from  ita  place, 

And  flashed  into  the  moving  dome 

An  ecstasy  of  prismed  fire. 
And  then  said  1,  "  A  soul  has  come 

To  the  deep  zenith  of  desire!  " 
But  still  I  wondered  if  it  knew 
The  dream  for  which  it  died  was  true. 

I  wondered — who  shall  say  how  long  ? 

(One  heart-beat  ? — Thrice  ten  thousand  years  ?) 
Till  suddenly  there  was  no  throng 

Of  faces  to  arraign  the  spheres, — 
No  more  white  faces  there  to  cry 
To  those  great  pageants  of  the  sky. 

Then  quietly  I  grew  aware 
Of  one  who  came  with  eyes  of  bliss 

And  brow  of  calm  and  lips  of  prayer. 
Said  I,  "How  wonderful  is  this! 

Where  are  the  faces  once  that  cried— 

•  (live  us  the  dream  for  which  we  died '  ?  " 


The  answer  fell  as  soft  as  sleep,— 
"  1  am  of  those  who,  having  cried 

So  long  in  that  tumultuous  deep. 

Have  won  the  dream  for  which  we  died." 

And  then  said  I,  "  Which  dream  was  true  ? 

For  many  were  revealed  to  you!  " 

He  answered,  "  To  the  soul  made  wise 
All  true,  all  beautiful  they  seem. 

But  the  white  peace  that  fills  our  eyes 
Outdoes  desire,  outreaches  dream. 

For  we  are  come  unto  the  place 

Where  always  we  behold  God's  face!  " 


•u 


y«urt?) 


•Iff 

l>oems  written  before  isso 
(»rom  "«tlon  and  9tber  poems") 

•O  i>iX,ndy,   r.  «„J  auo.   &^  ^8.  g,^. 


I." 

e? 


n 


i 


Dedication  of  "  Orion  and  Other  Poems" 

To  G.  Goodridge  Roberta 

^  ^11'  "'*™  ■"<l  proffer  them  to  thee 
-.1  blown  and  beaten  by  winds  of  »^' 

Th^'r%^  "?•''*'  ">-  tide  i2«d  rive,-"* 
The  broad,  ship-laden  Miramichi        ' 

«"~  JW  «  A,  ,o.,h  of  U,,  .Sd^_ 

Fredericton,  July,  1880.  "swray. 

To  the  Spirit  of  Song 
""fL"  "n  fotrh*""""  """^^  "•«  h°"°w  heaven 
Bright  tLe  hair  ^Zf'l  t^lVthe  etrs"wir-' 


«94 


POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  1880 


Surely  1  have  seen  the  majesty  and  wonder. 

Beauty,  might  and  splendour  of  the  soul  of  song; 
Surely  I  have  felt  the  spell  that  lifts  asunder 
Soul  from  body,  when  lips  faint  and  thought  is  strong; 

Surely  I  have  heard 

The  ample  silence  stirred 
By  intensest  music  from  no  throat  of  bird: — 

Smitten  down  before  thy  feet 

From  the  paths  of  heaven  sweet, 
Lowly  I  await  the  song  upon  my  lips  conferred. 

Orion 

Two  mighty  arms  of  thunder-cloven  rock 

Stretched  ever  westward  toward  the  setting  sun. 

And  took  into  their  ancient,  scarred  embrace 

A  laughing  valley  and  a  crooning  bay. 

The  gods  had  stilled  them  in  their  primal  throes, 

And  broken  down  their  writhed  extremities 

Sheer  to  the  open  sea.     And  now  pine-belts 

And  strayed  fir-copses  lined  their  shaggy  sides; 

And  inland  toward  the  island's  quiet  heart 

White  torrents  cleft  the  screens  and  answered  each 

To  other  from  the  high  cliffs  closer  drawn; 

Kept  ever  brimming  from  eternal  caves 

In  azure  deeps  of  snow,  and  feeding  full 

A  strong,  swift  river.     And  the  river  flowed 

With  tumult,  till  it  caught  the  mighty  speech 

Rolled  upward  from  the  ocean,  when  it  paused. 

And  hushed  its  rapid  song  in  reverence. 

And  wound  slow-footed  through  the  summer  vale, 

And  met  its  sovereign  with  majestic  calm. 

The  sunset  with  its  red  and  purple  banners 

Hung  softly  o'er  the  bay,  whose  rippled  breast 

Flushed  crimson;  and  the  froth-streaks  round  the  beach 

Were  glowing  pink.     The  sands  burned  ruddy  gold, 

And  foot-marks  crossing  them  lay  sharp  and  black. 

A  flood  of  purple  glory  swept  the  shores, 

And  spread  upon  the  vineyards,  and  the  groves 

Of  olives  round  the  river-banks,  and  clothed 


POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  ,880  ,,, 

The'  rSd  Sf  aid"^'"i7'"''?-  "  <='™bed 

sTrnTsfoSeir fcr ""'^^'^  ■■"  'he  tide. 

sward         °'"'  '"""   ">«  ^'--eam's  mouth,  'there  the 

S We'tv\"s-  Sir  "''=  ""^^^'^  f-t 

About.a  high-piled  aIU°'^^Thi?e'[hfK-^^'="="  ^""S''" 

^h^Ka^SrV^^C?^^^^^^^ 

Stood  praying  westward    ?nh"P"'''°'"'^  ^^hios. 

The  griding  knTfe  well  wh^»  ^  outstretched  hand 
The  rVl  pries  -^dlrk  tresses   m'«H°'''''^  '^"'^  ^^^^^d. 

SathXro^i't-d'''^^  ?''r  -^  ^^'"  = 
And  never  rested      Nolfif"  T'  ^^^^^  ''^'f  hid,' 

His  ev«   iXl  J  ^  ?''°™  his  fanged  jaws 


,,6  POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  1880 

Along  the  shore  came  one  who  seemed  to  wear 

The  erandeur  of  the  mountains  for  a  robe, 

ihe  Stent's  strength  for  girdle,  and  for  crown 

The  sea's  calm,  for  dread  fury  capable,— 

A  Hunter  laden  with  the  spo"ed  pride 

Of  kingly  beasts  before  not  dared  of  men,— 

And  stiod  without  the  laurel's  sacred  shade. 

Which  his  large  presence  deepened     When  the  knife 

T  et  blood  well-pleasing  to  Apollo  forth 

The  victim"  ga'sping  tLoat,-who  yet  cried  not. 

But  glared  still  hate  upon  ^'l^^^^"^". 

And  died  uncraven.-th<.n  the  Hunter  bent 

His  Bodlike  head  with  awe  unto  the  gods. 

And  so  kept  bowed,  the  while  the  King  drew  forth 

Wne  ?rom  a  full  s^in-bottle  nigh   and  poured 

A  beaded,  dark  libation.     Then  he  raised 

His  head  again,-like  a  tall  pine  that  bends 

Unto  a  sudden  blast,  and  so  keeps  bent 

Some  moments,  till  the  tempest  passes  by,- 

And  cast  his  burden  down  before  the  Kmg, 

And  said.-_  ^.^^  ^^.^^  ^j  j.^^^^  leopards  bears, 

Lynxes  and  wolves.  I  come,  O  King,  fulfiUmg 

Mv  Dledae  and  seeking  the  delayed  fulfiUing 

^/sfflong  hopes,     lor  -w  the  mountam  lairs 

Are  empty,  and  the  valley  folds  secure. 

The  inland  jungles  shall  be  vexed  no  more 

With  muffled  roarings  through  the  clouded  mght. 

And  heavy  splashings  in  the  misty  pools. 

The  echo'peSpled  crags  shall  howl  no  more 

With  hungry  yelpings  '^d. t\«^^°J3^,^":  ^^^e 
The  breeding  ewe  in  the  thicket  shall  not  waKe 
Whh  woWes-'teeth  at  her  throat,  nor  drinking  bull 
Bellow  in  vain  beneath  the  leopard  s  paw. 
Your  maidens  shall  not  fear  to  quit  by  night 
Th»;r  rottaees  to  meet  their  shepherd  laos, 
I'd  these  shall  leave  safe  flocks,  and  have  no  need 
Of  blazing  faggots.     Nor  without  some  toils 
A^e  these'things  so.     For  mighty  beasts  did  yield 
Their  ornament  up  most  reluctantly. 


POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  x88o  ,,, 

The  w.de  air  and  the^ve^-L'ous  sun       "''''* '''"'' 
And  lent  glad  se?Ji«to'^h'"-"l""2'*> 

Of  lone  winds  h,l„i'°«=  '"■^'««  ''ings 
From  slaT-consuW^^* .  ongudess  messages 
And  breadtnnH^*'  "i'^"' P'nnacles;  " 
But  no  "o  kfng  S'  ?"h^  «'"ness' fathered  me. 

Of  love's  skaTeKin.'"'^;''')"'  ''^^P  d'^"f?h«s 
Of  «aiden4ld™  V,^i,°/,^^^^^^^^^  gift 

^"oSXthfse  s?e;t  .^"'!,'''-  'he  King. 
The  people  dweK^.u^  ^""^^^  ''"h  awe 
■'  Great  honouThast  Z  ■     ''^^P-jhored  Chios: 

%^'o:i'i;?f^^^^^^^^^^ 

And  gave  his  guest  to  dtk^,".tt"nt"d^ord, 


,98  POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  1880 

But  crooked   serpent-smooth,-  -"Drink  this,  in  pledge 

S?  tC  deep  dr'aughts  for  which  thou  art  ath.rst. 

Anrf  now  I  eo  to  bid  the  maid  be  glad 

Hi  rke'^?ready      ^f^^ec  here  ^th  these 

And  I  will  come  ar  d  fetch  thee.       And  he  went 

Up  froui  the  shore  and  in  among  the  vines, 

Unt    h  s  mantle  gleamed  athwart  the  lanes 

Of  sunset  through  the  far,  grey  ol.ve-groves. 

?he  Hunter  turned  and  heeded  not  the  men. 

But  went  apart  close  by  the  sleepless  sea 

And  sat  him  down,  because  his  eyes  w«e  dim. 

And  his  head  heavy,  and  his  sinews  faint. 

And  now  it  was  about  the  set  of  sun. 
And  the  west  sea-line  with  its  quivering  r.m 
Had     dThe  sun-god's  curls.     A  sanguine  mist 
Crept  up,  and  to  the  Hunter's  heavy  eyes 
Became'^is  if  his  eyes  were  filled  with  blood 
He  suessed  the  traitorous  cup,  and  his  great  heart 
Was'Sot  his  throat  was  hot ;  but  heavier  grew 
His  head,  and  he  sank  back  upon  the  sand, 
Nor  saw  the  light  go  out  across  the  sea. 
Nor  heird  the  eagfe  scream  among  the  crags, 
Nor  stealthy  laughter  echo  up  the  shoie 
Nor  the  slow  ripple  break  about  his  feet. 

The  deep-eyed  Night  drew  down  to  comfort  him, 

I'd  wKr  grelt  lids  -^  7"rne<iJ°r  him, 

Foreknowing  all  his  woe   and  herse  f  weak 

To  bend  for  h!m  the  indomitable  fates, 

And  heavier  diws  wet  all  the  trees  and  fields ; 

And  sfghs  cool-drawn  from  infinite  wells  of  space 

Sfd  round  him;  and  from  forth  the  unbowed  hiUs 

Came  strer.gth,  and  from  the  ocean  essences 

And  influences  to  commune  with  him. 

But  found  his  spirit  blind,  and  dumb,  and  deaf. 

Not  eager  and  expectant,  as  of  old, 

At  eve^  portal  of  the  sleepless  mmd. 


POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  1880 

Bmill^iK"!!-'  ^"' ""  ""="  'hat  stir  the  vines 
Beneath  the  big,  sweet-smelling  grape-clusters? 
What  feet  are  these  that  leave  the  muffling  grass 

oSt  o/th''  f"'  ''1^'"«'*'  ^•'"P'y  "P  the  bea?h^     ' 
Out  of  the  foamless  sea  a  heavy  fog 

B,ftTA   "P-  '1°"'='*  '1.°"  '^^  ">«  '"itnd  shores. 

The  Hunter;  and  the  darkness  gathered  thick 

More  thick  the  fog  and  darkness  where  he  lay '_ 
A   „;^h,*  -nother  folds  more  close  her  child  ^' 
sit  i^ow  tT.7  m'^''*'"  street-brawl  jars  her  dreams. 
But  now  the  folding  vapours  veiled  him  not, 

1  tie  ineffectual  darkness  hid  him  not 
lZ°T  ^/v^  yJ^^.^^^  ^'"g  ="d  bar;  a  torch. 
AnH  !  ??K  '!!'"?*  ""=  """'"  ^here  he  lay;    ' 
And  a  1  the  darkness  shuddered  and  fled  back 
Sullenly  into  the  grim-visaged  crags 

Crent*nV!"Kn'"l"^''  foreheads;  and  the  fog 
LTftpt  up  a  chilly  horror  round  the  King 

rnum^LT.rf''^^''i  '^°^"'"g  mountain-brows. 

Tnnn)    ^'  I        "^Z"^'  ^"^  '=''^°^  °^  '^ick  night 

Toppled  about  the  place,  and  each  small  sound 
Of  footstep  or  of  stealthy  whisper  rang 

Refor^.^  *v-  '''"i'  r"*^'"  "'^  cavernous  hollows. 
Before  the  King,  before  the  torch-bearer. 
Stood  one  beside  the  Hunter's  head,-a  slave 
Bes.de  the  god-begotten.-and  he  bkre 
Back  with  one  arm  his  cloak,  and  in  his  hand 
»     bare  a  cup— with  suchlike  juice  in  it 
As  slftw  Alcmena's  son— above  the  face. 

Even  tS"")!!^  godlike  face,  more  deathly  white 
tven  than  death.     Then  into  each  close  lid 
He  dropped  the  poison  with  a  loathing  hand 
While  he  whose  light  made  manifest  the  deed 
winced  in  his  eyes  and  saw  not,  would  not  see. 
AnH  h  '^y^"  *h«  ''"e^  n°t  of  their  light  gone  oJt. 
And  heavy  drops  stood  forth  on  all  the  rocks 
And  ocean  moaned  unseen  beneath  f  e  fog 
But  the  King  laughed-not  loud-and  drew  his  cloak 
Closer  about  him  and  went  up  the  beach 


'99 


MO 


POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  1880 


And  they  two  with  him. 

Now  the  fog  Tolled  back 
And  a  low  moon  came  out  across  the  sea, 
And  o'er  the  sea  flocked  out  the  pasturing  stats, 
And  still  he  lay  upon  the  trodden  sand, 
And  still  the  ripple  brake  about  his  feet. 
So  moved  the  burdened  hours  toward  the  davn ; 
But  suddenly  their  burden  was  forgot, 
/or  music  welled  from  out  the  throbbing  waves. 
And  melody  filled  all  the  silver  air. 
And  silver  shoulders  under  wondrous  gold 
Of  dripping  tresses  brake  the  shining  waste    , 
Whence  came  the  maids  beloved  of  Doris,  fair 
As  stars  and  lovely  for  the  stars  to  see, 
And  stood  and  mourned  about  the  Hunter  there, — 
And  cursed  were  his  eyes  that  could  not  see. 
And  had  he  seen,  as  grievous  were  his  case. 
Blinded  with  love  and  stricken  with  delight. 
So  came  they  weeping,  and  their  yellow  hair 
Fell  round  them,  while  they  smote  their  lyres  and  sang: 

"  O  god-begotten 
And  dear  to  all  the  gods! 

For  thee  quick-dropping  tears 
Make  heavy  our  eyes  and  hot. 
Be  he  of  gods  forgotten 
That  smote  thee,  their  gifts  as  rods 
To  scourge  him  all  his  years. 
Sparing  him  not. 

"  For  thee  the  long-heaving 
Ocean,  fruitful  of  foam. 
Groaned  in  his  depths  and  was  sore 
Troubled,  grieving  for  thee. 
Grew  Clotho  sick  of  her  weaving. 
And  the  fury  of  storms  that  come 
Out  of  the  wilderness  hoar 
Went  pitying  thee. 


aoi 


POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  ,880 

"  M„'.i'"''  '/'*  '"-bearing 
^fc'hj  bountiful  larth, 
^f°^'b  borne  no  fairer  son 

^^i'lnciVc'^itr^e^rfn-r^"'''^' 

And  hath  veiled  her  in  vapoura  as  o„- 
Stnclcen  down,  overa«^d?  °°' 

"  ^o' thee  the  all-covering 

And  the  harvested  lands. 

"7-ith  thy  rrr:.';.!^  "^  ''-«•  -  -ep  with  thee,  sore 

th^morr."'™"^'  P^«'  '"«  Night  fro.n  the  dusk  to 

The  u„pUj„5ed  spaces  of  Air.  the  unharnessed  ™ight  of 

""%eh?nd"^'  "'"'''''^^'^  <>"  <>-  before  his  incoming 
""  T!A::'  '"^''='  '^^'"^  ^"  «"-  ".  or  hath  been' 
'  %"o"ttTaf  ''"^"  ''•^  ^''"  ^~«  their  well-heads  soo„' 
The  high  Rock,  barren  at  even,  at  morning  clothed  with  the 

'%U««ri:^'"«  "^  ''---  -<^e  fast  in  their 


aes  POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  1880 

But  they   withstood  not  Apollo,  they  brake   through  to 

Hades,  o'erthrown; 
But  thee  the  high  gods  follow  with  favour,  kind  to  their  own; 
For  of  thee  they  have  not  lacked  vows,  nor  yellow  honey, 

nor  oil,  .  .  ,    -r.  j 

Nor  the  first  fruit  red  on  the  boughs,  nor  white  meal  sifted 

with  toil,  ,    .  ■  .         -It.  .u     r  . 

Nor  gladdening  wine,  nor  savour  of  thighs  with  the  tai 

burned  pure, —  

Therefore  now  of  their  favour  this  ill  thing  shall  not  endure. 
It  endures  but  a  little,  seeing  the  gods  make  ready  then 

mercy,  , ,        ,       _. 

Giving  for  thy  well-being  a  skillfuller  goddess  than  Circe, 
For  the  putting  away  of  thy  trouble,  the  setting  far  off  ol 

thy  pain,  ,  ,  .        ,.    ,       ^u        • 

And  she  shr.'.l  repay  thee  double,  making  thy  loss  thy  gain, 
But  come,  for  the  night  fulfils,  the  grey  in  the  sky  givei 

warning; —  1  ,    i  1  u  ji 

Then  get  thee  up  to  the  hills    and  thou  shalt  behold  tli. 

MORNING." 

The  Hunter  stirred,  and  all  the  long  grey  shore 

Lay  empty,  and  the  ripple  whispered  not, 

Awed  by  the  wide-spread  silence.     Then  he  rose, 

Groping,  and  strove  to  put  aside  the  night 

That  clung  beneath  his  eyelids,— till  he  knew. 

And  his  whole  heart  sank,  knowing.     Then  his  voice 

Brake  thus  from  out  his  utter  misery 

(The  while  a  sound  went,— "Get  thee  up  to  the  hills; 

Thou  shalt  behold  the  morning  " ;  but  he  heard  not): 

"  Oh,  black  night,  black  forever!     No  light  forever! 

Oh,  long,  long  night,  just  fallen  to  hang  forever. 

Never  to  break  or  lighten !     Whose  the  heart 

That  dared  it  ?    Whose  the  hateful  thought  ?    What  han 

Wrought  me  this  curse,  dealt  me  this  ruin,  this  woe 

Unutterable,  pitiless,  unmeasured,— 

Put  out  my  light,  portioned  me  night  forever  ? 

Oh,  ye  that  die  not,  ye  that  suffer  not, 

Gods  that  are  mindful,  seeing  good  and  evil! 

If  ever  unto  you  have  risen  a  savour 


POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  ,880  ,03 

E^.rn»   ,"  ^*J"  ^°'«^"'  this  my  nigh? 

Thy  son*    o'lr  '{"^  "'*'"'  "a.h  fallen 
O "yan  WHin   ''Pi''^  ''*^'  ■''^hold  my  woe! 
w;?h^-      1   "^  "8.  sky  immovable, 
With  everlasting  contemplation  wise 

TeZ  ^f  "°  '?='"^'^y  ?     Fo'«'«"  «nd  fields 

a!??^era7efAsTarie"forf"  •-"''• 
Tell  me;  I  hearkeS  "  Tn^v  k  ''!.''!'?''  "■«' 
Besought  the  rocks  ^  '""  ''""''"'^  ''"'l 

rdo\'Kbfc-=gtr;-— 

Imprepable  to  silence.     Then   aeain 
Even  rn  the  lifting  of  his  head?'and  mkkin^ 


POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  1880 


•'  Up  to  the  hilU! 
Thou  Shalt  behold  the  morning!  " 

Then  he  bowed 
With  godlike  reverence,  reverencing  the  godi 
And  ancient  powers  that  watched  him,  and  made  quick 
His  sense  to  their  communion. 

Now  a  sound 
Of  hammers  rose  behind  a  jagged  cape 
Not  many  paces  hence,  with  wmdy  roar 
Of  new-awakened  fire.     With  pain  and  toil, 
Groping  and  staggering,  hands,  and  knees,  and  feet 
Bruised    with  the  crags,   and    faint,    he    came  where 

men 
Wrought  arms  and  forged  the  glowing  bronze  for  war. 
There  one  came  forth  to  meet  him;  him  he  took 
Upon  his  kingly  shoulder,  and  him  bade 
Of  courtesy  to  be  to  him  for  eyes, 
To  guide  his  feet  that  quickly  he  might  fare 
To  the  hill-crests,  or  ere  the  fiery  flower 
Of  dawn  bloomed  fully. 

So  they  two  went  thus 
Up  from  the  sombre,  bitter-breathing  sea. 
Beside  the  river,  o'er  the  slumbrous  sward 
Gossamer-spread,  dew-drenched,  and  in  among 
The  vineyards  and  the  olives.     The  fresh  earth 
Heavy  about  his  feet,  the  bursting  wealth 
Of  big  grape-bunches,  and  the  cool,  green  coils 
Of  dripping  vines  breathed  richly.     Swift  they  moved 
'Mid  gnarled  trunks  and  still,  grey  stretch  of  leaves. 
Without  a  sound  save  of  wet  twigs  snapped  dully 
Or  flit  of  startled  bird.     And  now  their  way 
They  kept  with  toil,  fallen  on  toilsome  ways,— 
Up  shattered  slopes  half-clothed  with  juniper, 
Throu-'h  ragged-floored  ravines,  whose  blasted  scars 
Held  mighty  pines  root-fast  in  their  black  depths, 
Still  climbing,  till  a  keen  wind  met  them  full 
From  eastward  breathed,  free-scented  from  the  brine. 
His  labouring  feet  stood  still,  and  while  his  lips 
Drank  the  clear  wind,  his  guide,  descending  home, 
Left  him  alone,  facing  the  gates  of  dawn. 


POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  ,880  „, 

Came  whi'  'he  e«.' wind""".^,'  V"^'  P'''". 

F.r  dow„;C?ee„f  tn^dS';!.:*'"'  ''''y  brake. 

neraceda„d.J^;^K:S};S' 

teife  Sr  u 'r '-^  ">«  «««  of  dawn 
Ble'^  back  f?Sm  ehher  bro '"!••  "u""^-  "«=  '''"d 
His  eye,  thatTur  "ed  ^hh  rh,.    ^T'  ,*"'^  '""'^d 
Late  wrought  upon  thm   wh?,n°-^°"'  dishonour 

K-LrThk'-  >^^^^^^^^ 

Upon  h"s  eve,  «nH*f  "^.°'  "'  '"diance  fell 

Of  crimson  slS  from  th*"""  '^-^  *'''"=  """d 
Well  ranked  thl  "  '"*  openmg  east 


te6  POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  1880 

Like  Parian  »tone,  unnerved  hi  n,  waited  »hb,— 
Than  Circe  »kinfuller  to  put  away 
Hii  pain,  to  tct  his  iorrow  afar  off,— 
Eof,  with  warm  heart  warm  for  htm.    Hw  toils 
Endured  in  vain,  his  great  deeds  wrought  in  vain. 
His  bitter  pain,  (Enopion's  house  accursi 
And  even  his  sweet  revenue,  he  recked  not  of; 
But  gave  his  heart  up  straightway  unto  love. 

Now  Uelos  lay  a  great  way  off,  and  thither 

They  two  rejoicing  went  across  the  sea. 

And  under  their  swift  feet,  which  the  wave  kissed 

But  wet  not,— for  Poseidon  willed  it  so, 

Honouring  his  son,— and  all  along  their  way 

Was  spread  a  perfect  calm.     And  every  being 

Of  beauty  or  of  mirth  left  his  abode 

Under  the  populous  flood  and  journeyed  with  them. 

Out  of  their  deep  green  caves  the  Nereids  came 

Again  to  do  hin<  honour;  shining  limbs 

And  shining  bosoms,  cleaving,  waked  the  mam 

All  into  sapphire  ripples,  eachwherc  crownei- 

With  yellow  tresses  streaming.     Triton  came 

And  all  his  goodly  company,  with  shells 

Pink-whorled  and  purple,  many-formed,  and  mace 

Tumultuous  music.     Ocean's  tawny  floor 

They  all  left  vacant,  empty  every  bower, 

And  solitary  the  remotest  courts. 

Following  in  the  midst  of  the  array 

Their  mistress,  her  white  horses  paced  along 

Over  the  unaccustomed  element, 

Submissive,  with  the  wonted  chariot 

Pillowed  in  vapours  silver,  pink  and  gold, 

Itself  of  pearl  and  fire.     And  so  they  reached 

Delos,  and  went  together  hand  m  hand 

Up  from  the  water  and  their  company,         _ 

And  the  green  wood  received  them  out  of  sight. 


POEMS  WRITTEN  BEVORE  1880 
Ariadne 


»o7 


HuNO  like  a  rich  pomegranate  o'er  the  lea 

The  feather-shadowed  ferns  drooped  dreamfully 
The  solitude's  evading  harmony  """"'"">. 

A  u^uf"^  remotely  over  sea  and  land; 
A  light  wmd  woke  and  whispered  warily 
And  myriad  ripple,  tinkled  on  the  strind. 

II 

^'"Hi'Al"//  ''°*";r"l  °".""'  ''Khing  shore, 
Her  head  upon  her  bended  arm;  her  hair 

nlVt^'^Z^'^"'^  ',?■"•  »  heart-entangling  store; 
D±"i'^"k-"'*"u"«  """"Sh  it  glimmered  more 
Divinely  white  than  snows  in  morning  air; 

One  tress  more  wide  astray,  the  ripples  bore 
Where  her  hand  clenched  the  ooze  in  mute  desnair 


^Ih^^Vti^f  '"'"''  'aughed  over  her,  then  slunk 

bhamefast  away,  laden  with  her  deep  woe 
hmit  with  the  consciousness  that  she  had  drink 
Grief  s  numbing  chalice  to  the  dregs,  and  sunk. 
As  deep  as  ever  mortal  soul  could  eo 

V!r^  '  ^Jn  u*^"=  *''"^>  "''«  a  ivav'e-borne  trunk 
Did  her  still  body  no  life-promise  show.  ' 

IV 

^  n?.?"'".?*'*'  ?'"*"'  •'"  P"''«';  and  a  sound 

Ut  her  deep-drawn  and  slowly-measured  breath 
Now  shattered  by  a  gasping  sob,  or  drowned        ' 
%*"^'^^"/"«l">KS  of  the  leaves  around, 
lold  of  her  spirit  driven  back  from  Death. 

w/J'h'fiii''.'^  '"u^*"  V^  f°''=''"<^  <J»"y  bouid 
With  fillets,  where  the  hemlock  wavereth. 


308 


POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  1880 


A  many-throated  din  came  echoing 

Over  the  startled  trees  confusedly, 
From  the  inmost  mountain  folds  hurled  clamouring 
Along  the  level  shore  to  droop  its  wing; 

She  blindly  rose,  and  o'er  the  moon-tracked  sea 
Towards  Athens  stretched  her  hands, — "  With  shouts  the 
bring 

Their  conquering  chieftain  home.  Ah  me  I  ah  me!  " 


But  clearer  came  the  music,  zephyr-borne. 
And  turned  her  yearnings  from  the  over-seas. 

Hurtled  unmasked  o'er  glade  and  belted  bourne, — 

Of  dinning  cymbal,  covert-rousing  horn. 
Soft  waxen  pipe,  shrill-shouted  evoes. 

Then  sat  she  down  unheeding  and  forlorn, 
Hp.lf  dreaming  of  old  Cretan  melodies. 


Like  thought  quick-frozen  in  the  vivid  brain 
At  need  of  sudden,  vast  emergency. 

She  sat  there  dazed  and  motionless;  the  main 

Sobbed  round  and  caught  her  longest  tress  again. 
And  clasped  her  shell-like  foot,  nor  heeded  she; 

And  nearer,  and  nearer,  like  thick  gusts  of  rain, 
The  clamour  swelled  and  burst  upon  the  sea. 


The  thickets  rocked;  the  ferns  were  trampled  down; 

The  shells  and  pebbles  splashed  into  the  waves; 
The  white  sands  reeked  with  purple  stains  and  brown. 
With  crushed  grape-clusters  and  fig-bunches  strown; 

Hoof'd  sylvans,  fauns,  satyrs  from  mossy  cjves. 
Fur-clad  Bacchantes,  leapt  around  to  drown 

God  Bacchus'  voice,  whose  lip  the  crimson  laves. 


POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  1880 

His  thyrsus,  wreathed  nth  many-v.-  ..ed  vine 
That  magically  blosL  ,m.d  and  b;  re  fruT 

And  meshed  her  gr.ef-clipt  spirit  with  his  lute. 


209 


And  fell  before  thy  mortal  loveliness.  ' 


"  Hk^^nV''!,?J'*'l-*°"S"'''^  I""''^"'"  love, 

l?«H*"';''  ''^"'y  ''P'"'  <='«»^  above 

Dead  gnefs.  as  fitteth  godhead's  promised  spouse. 

XII 

"  ^l^  hearken   maiden !     I  will  love  thee  well 
Then  rise  and  follow,  rise  and  follow   rise 

To  sphere-realms  in  the  star-entfngled  skies. 


sio  POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  1880 

XIII 

"  Rich  largess  of  all  crystalline  delights, 
With  converse  of  the  well-persuading  lyre, 

Shall  satisfy  thee  of  sweet  sounds  and  sights. 

And  each  compelling  beauty  that  excites 
A  yearning  shall  fulfil  its  own  desire; 

And  vintagers  shall  worship  thee  with  rites 
Of  wine  outpoured  and  vervain-nourished  fire. 


"  And  all  these  pleasures  shall  be  sure  for  thee; 

And  woven  through  them  like  a  golden  thread 
The  certainty  of  one  fixt  love  for  thee, 
And  that  a  god's,  shall  bind  them  fast  for  thee, — 

So  fast  that  by  no  finely-stinging  dread, 
Lest  they  should  prove  some  dream-wrought  mockery. 

Shall  thy  heart's  joyance  e'er  be  visited." 


XV 

And  so  with  silver-linkfed  melodies 

He  wooed  her  till  the  moon  lay  pale  and  low; 
And  first  she  lifted  up  her  dreaming  eyes 
And  dreamed  him  her  old  love  in  fairer  guise; 

And  then  her  soul  drew  outwards,  and  a  glow 
Woke  in  her  blood  of  pleasure  and  surprise. 

To  think  it  was  a  god  that  loved  her  so. 


And  last  she  rose  up  happily,  and  gave 

Her  hand  to  him,  by  sudden  love  made  bold, — 

The  while  the  sun  got  up  refreshed  and  drave 

Square-shouldered  through  the  lucent  mists,  that  clave 
To  the  clear-echoed  inland  hills,  and  rolled 

Along  their  peaks  in  many  a  pallid  wave. 
Or  floated  coldly  o'er  the  molten  gold, — 


POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  r 


880 


XVII 


Where  n.fsirtral?effi"s.r,te,;:-^  ^"'^  '"--' 
And  every  scent  and  colour  drins  anrf  Vnin 

B«ssruuyh7nSl'::p,j,rK&^^i-^^ 

XVIII 

''trtvj''f:^f  L!:5f '»-.-«  incomplete  ? 

And  loveTad  dtd  ;h'^P'irH^/y .-  ?=heat: 
And  this  god's  lovrwat^lTr  ryt^^™'"*'' 
For  she  was  a  forsaken  mai^  he^wooed  ' 


Memni 


on 


^A^frl'  ^f,""''''"  *'y  ^''■'.  fickle  sleep 

Of  Weless.  shiftiSd^^he^S^ 

Andtt'tr'fl'iUXtfhl  ^''^'^  '°' -«  -"'«t; 
As  loth  to  W  a J^Pa,^'tr;--/^s. 

Aurora's  yellow  hair,  that  up  the  slS, 


f:l 


iia  POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  1880 

The  under-heavens  crimson ;  now  she  springs 
Full-blown  before  t'.;  Day,  and  hastens  by 

With  silver-footed  speed  and  yearning  wings, 
To  kiss  a  form  of  stone  that  at  her  coming  sings. 


Thrilled  at  the  voice,  the  traveller  starts  aside, 
And  sees  the  image,  prostrate,  half  enwound 

With  red,  unstable  sand- wreaths,  and  its  wide 

Forehead,  and  lips  that  moved  not  with  their  sound 
Celestial,  lined  with  many  a  furrowed  wound, 

Deep-graven  by  the  gnawing  desert  blast: 
Half-buried  sphinxes  strewed  the  waste  around, 

And  human-headed  bulls,  now  mouldering  fast,— 

Their  impious  shapes  half  gone,  their  greatness  wholly  pasi 

IV 

Out  of  this  desolation  vast  and  dead. 

Now  glorified  and  clothed  in  red  and  gold, — 

Brightness  befitting  Egypt's  hero's  bed,— 
A  matin  to  his  goddess  mother  rolled 
From  dawn-kissed  lips,  that  also  kissed  the  mould 

Of  their  decaying  substance.     The  sweet  psalm 
Thrilled  in  the  listener's  ears,  with  manifold 

Cool  music  mingled  of  the  murmuring  palm; 

And  accents  large  and  sad  deepened  the  lifeless  calm. 


"  Sweet  mother,  stay;  thy  son  requireth  thee! 

All  day  the  sun,  with  massive,  maddening  glare, 
Beats  on  my  weary  brow  and  tortures  me. 

All  day  the  pitiless  sand-blasts  gnaw  and  wear 

Deep  furrows  in  my  lidless  eyes  and  bare. 
All  day  the  palms  stand  up  and  mock  at  me, 

And  drop  cool  shade  over  the  dead  bones  there. 
And  voiceless  stones,  that  crave  no  canopy: 
O  beautiful  mother,  stay;  't  is  thy  son  prayeth  thee. 


POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  .880 


»i3 


VI 

"  ThTnillf;  •'"1'^=  1^^  '°"''  ''eart  needeth  thee- 
The  night  IS  kind  and  fans  me  with  her  si^hs 

VII 

"  Le'J'Frhn'l'^''''  1°  ''"■'^'^'y  ^""Idst  thou  flee  > 

Wer:  del  To^h^'°T'  ^°""^  "^  -^"^^^ept  Troy 
Thou  drank  st  when  thou  hadst  gaine^the  willing,  king.y 

VIII 

"  ^^°^^",;  ^.T-  S'^amander  chided  thee 
For  Often  have  I  heard  such  tales  from  him 

Of  thme  high  ongm  Hyperion's  courts  among. 

IX 

From'I'hJ'r'''*  f°^?bodings  visited  thee 
iTom  the  Laconian's  ravish'd  bridal  bed- 

wi  ""ir  °^.  '"'"'^  ''"'  l^a'f  blind. d  thee 
When  Ihon's  god-built  gates,  wide-opened. 


a  14  POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  1880 

Let  in  the  fatal  Spartan  woman  wed 
To  Troy  in  flames,  dogs  gorged  with  Trojan  slain, 

And  tears  of  thine,  mother,  for  thy  son  dead. 
Dead ;  would  my  soul  were  with  the  body  slain, 
Nor  stony-fetter'd  here  upon  this  Theban  plain! 


"O  mother,  what  glooms  darkened  down  on  thee. 

And  tearful  fears  made  thy  scared  eyelids  red, 
When  in?  thou  sawest  by  some  god's  enmity 

Madly  to  meet  Pelides'  fury  led. 

Sparing  the  aged  Nestor's  childless  head 
By  me  made  childles*.     On  the  Phrygian  plain 

Between  the  bright-eyed  Greeks  and  Trojans  bred 
Warriois,  I  met  the  Phthian  ash  in  vain, 
Which  bade  my  breast's  bright  wine  the  trampled  stubbl 
stain. 

XI 

"  Then,  mother,  weeping,  thou  to  Jove  didst  flee. 

And  wring  thy  fingers,  and,  a  suppliant. 
Didst  kneel  before  him,  grasping  his  great  knee 

And  awful  beard,  and  clinging  like  a  plant 

Of  ivy  to  an  oak,  till  he  should  grant 
Peculiar  honours,  not  vouchsafed  before. 

To  thy  son's  obsequies;  nor  didst  thou  pant 
And  pray  in  vain,  and  kiss  his  beard  all  hoar. 
And  large  ambrosial  locks  that  veiled  the  sapphire  floor. 

XII 

"For,  mother,  when  the  ruddy-bosomed  sea 
Had  drunk  its  fill  of  fire,  and,  climbing  high, 

Smoke  of  my  funeral  pyre,  with  savoury 
Odours  of  oil  and  honey,  'riched  the  sky. 
Out  of  the  seething  flames  a  cloud  did  fly 

Of  shrill-voiced  birds,— like  swarms  of  swarthy  bees 
That  move  their  household  gods  in  young  July,— 

And,  screaming,  fought  and  perished,  to  appease 

My  manes  and  fulfil  impelling  Jove's  decrees. 


POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  1880 


aiS 


XIII 

"  T^Thl™''  '"*'J'  "7  '°"8  "°  <:ha™  for  thee 

Thy  loose  locks  trailed  are  in  golden  state 
XIV 

'^^Z  ''"'V"'  ?*  "'*  many-spangled  night 
W^^,'°V^^  ^^"^  *''"«  shore  and  river  mer<re 

U  beautiful  mother,  hear;  thy  chained  son  calleth  thee." 


Ode  to  Drowsihood 


Breather  of  honeyed  breath  upon  my  face' 
Teller  of  balmy  tales!  Weaver  of  dreamt 
Sweet  conjarer  of  palpitating  gleams 

And  peopled  shadows  trooping  ilto  place 
In  purple  streams 

Mn?h°  ''"'  '^T^^'^  "'^  ^n<l  the  drowsy  eye' 

And  weary  heads  lie  down.  ^  ' 

Thee,  Nodding  Spirit!     Magic  Comforter' 
Thee,  with  faint  mouth  h^f  speechTel  I  invoke. 


ai6  POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  1880 

And  straight  uplooms  through  the  dead  centuries'  smoke 
The  aged  Druid  in  his  robe  of  (ur, 

Beneath  the  oak 
Where  hang  uncut  the  paly  mistletoes. 

The  mistletoe  dissolves  to  Indian  willow, 
Glassing  its  red  stems  in  the  stream  that  flows 

Through  the  broad  interval.     A  lazy  billow 
Flung  from  my  oar  lifts  the  long  grass  that  grows 

To  be  the  Naiad's  pillow. 

The  startled  meadow-hen  floats  off,  to  sink 

Into  remoter  shades  and  ferny  glooms; 

The  great  bees  drone  about  the  thick  pea-blooms; 
The  linked  bubblings  of  the  bobolink. 

With  warm  perfumes  . 

From  the  broad-flowered  wild  parsnip,  drown  my  bram; 

The  grackles  bicker  in  the  alder-boughs; 
The  grasshoppers  pipe  out  their  thin  refrain 

That  with  intenser  heat  the  noon  endows. 
Then  thy  weft  weakens,  and  I  wake  again 

Out  of  my  dreamful  drowse. 

Ah!  fetch  thy  poppy-baths,  juices  exprest 
In  fervid  sunshine,  where  the  Javan  palm 
Stirs,  scarce  awakened  from  its  odorous  calm 

By  the  enervate  wind,  that  sinks  to  rest 
Amid  the  balm 

And  sultry  silence,  murmuring,  half  asleep, 
Cool  fragments  of  the  ocean's  foamy  roar, 

And  of  the  surge's  mighty  throbs  that  keep 
Forever  yearning  up  the  golden  shore. 

Mingled  with  song  of  Nereids  that  leap 
Where  the  curled  crests  downpour. 

Who  sips  thy  wine  may  float  in  Baiae's  skies. 
Or  flushed  Maggiore's  ripples,  mindless  made 
Of  storming  troubles  hard  to  be  allayed. 

Who  eats  thy  berries,  for  his  ears  and  eyes 
May  vineyard  shade 


POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  ,Slk> 

Against  a  grievous  season.     """  "'"K-^P* 

Ballade  of  the  Poet's  Thought 

^w^^r^  T"'''  ''"•>  'he  fume  of  the  street 

But  httle  he  guessed  the  wealth  she  brought 
Though  sweet  to  win,  was  bitter  to  keep     *  '' 

^  «r°°J^^.''^"  ^"  bosom,  grown  reolete 
T,^°"W  '-ghten  itself  in  song  of  what  ' 
It  had  gathered  in  silence,  he^oufd  meet 
No  answering  thrill  from  his  passion  clueht 
Then  gnevmg  he  fled  from  that  quTet  snot 
F^r'h'said"  "°  Th^"'  ^r.7^'''  -d  -«p. 

iss:L't^trl7bu^b^K!,t^^;.''^'=''  ^  --«"* 

ENVOI 

iJh,  poets,  bewailing  your  hapless  lot, 
Is  sweet  to  wm,  but  bitter  to  keep     ^ 


ai; 


tiS 


POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  1880 


Iterumne 

Ah  me!    No  wind  from  golden  Thesialy 
Blows  in  on  me  as  in  the  olden  days; 
No  morning  music  from  its  dew-sweet  ways, 

No  pipings,  such  as  came  so  clear  to  me 

Out  of  green  meadows  by  the  sparkling  sea; 
No  goudess  any  more,  no  Dryad  strays, 
And  glorifies  with  song  the  laurel  maze; 

Or  else  I  hear  not  and  I  cannot  see. 

For  out  of  weary  hands  is  fallen  the  lyre, 
And  sobs  in  falling;  all  the  purple  glow 
From  weary  eyes  is  faded,  which  before 

Saw  bright  Apollo  and  the  blissful  choir 
In  every  mountain  grove.     Nor  can  I  know 
If  J  shall  surely  see  them  any  more. 

A  Blue  Blossom 

A  SMALL  blue  flower  with  yellow  eye 
Hath  mightier  spell  to  move  ny  soul 
Than  even  the  mightiest  notes  which  roll 

From  man's  most  perfect  minstrelsy. 
A  flash,  a  momentary  gleam, 
A  glimpse  of  some  celestial  dream, 

And  tears  alone  are  left  to  me. 

Filled  with  a  longing  vague  and  dim, 

I  hold  the  flower  in  every  light; 

To  purge  my  soul's  redarkened  sight 
I  grope  till  all  my  senses  swim. 

In  vain;  I  feel  the  ecstasy 

Only  when  suddenly  I  see 
This  pale  star  with  the  sapphire  rim. 

Nor  hath  the  blossom  such  strange  power 
Because  it  saith  "  Forget  me  not " 
For  some  heart-holden,  distant  spot, 

Or  silent  tongue,  or  buried  hour. 


POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  ,880 

Methinki  immortal  memories 
«!„    1.       *  P*"  »=ene  of  Paradise 
Speak  ,0  my  spirit  through  the  flower. 

^T^n  !?">/'  °"  "'"='«'"  tongue; 

Even  nuit°e"to%":\°'?'  '^" '°°  ^ind. 
Its  ,v^K^y      '°  ""=''  '"  notes,  or  find 

The  Maple 

Oh  tenderly  deepen  the  woodland  elooms 
Rr«,K  "Tv'^y  '^^y  'he  beeches      ^  ' 

AnH*.i?'''-"''y  "''>  '^"'O'^  blooms 
And  the  pmes  rehearse  new  speeches- 
The  elms  toss  high  till  they  reaTh  the  ,kv 

Bu^tTr^el^'t^allte'^'^'''^"-'^^^^^^^ 
Isthemaple'Sn^LSr'^""^' 

3«d:i^Ss?e^-t~^^ 

When  paTe'l;^  fir  ''"''  '"''  """  "^  ""=  -se 

^  Than^t,";!"*^'^'  """^  »""  *^s  made 
1  nan  its  summer  canopy  sifted 

And  many  a  day  as  beneK  I  lay 
Has  my  memory  backward  drifted 

lS""'  ''"*,^  "">y  -^'k  not  again. 

Wherein     ."^^'"'■•8'""  hi". 

And  oh"  t^o  h^"*^  Ji""  ^'^^'  of  'he  wood- 
•nua  on.'  to  be  near  it  still! 


ai9 


X 


■to 


POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  1880 
Epistle  to  Bliss  Carman 

September,  1878 

An  azure  splendour  floats  upon  the  world. 
Around  ray  feet  the  blades  of  grass,  impearled 
And  diamonded,  are  changing  radiantly. 
At  every  step  new  wonders  do  I  see 
Of  fleeting  sapphire,  gold  and  amethyst,— 
Enchanting  magic  of  the  dew  sun-kissed. 
The  felon  jay  mid  golden-russet  beeches 
Ruffles  his  crest,  and  flies  with  startled  screeches. 
Ever  before  me  the  shy  cricket  whistles 
From  underneath  the  dry,  brown,  path-side  thistles. 
His  gay  note  leads  me,  and  I  quickly  follow 
Where  dips  the  path  down  through  a  little  hollow 
Of  young  fir-seedlings.     Then  I  cross  the  brook 
On  two  grey  logs,  whose  well-worn  barkless  look 
Tells  of  the  many  black-gown-shadowed  feet 
Which  tread  them  daily,  save  when  high  June  s  heat 
Scatters  us  wide,  to  roll  in  cool,  salt  billows 
Of  Fundy's  make,  or  under  hanging  willows 
Slide  the  light  birch,  and  dream,  and  watch  the  grass 
Wave  on  the  intervale  as  the  light  wind  passes, 
Puffing  a  gentle  cloud  of  smoke  to  scare 
The  sand-flies,  which  are  ravening  everywhere. 

Such  our  enjoyment,  Bliss,  few  weeks  ago; 
And  the  remembrance  warms  me  with  a  glow 
Of  pleasure,  as  I  cross  the  track  and  climb 
The  rocky  lane  I  've  clambered  many  a  time. 
On  either  side,  where  birch  and  maples  grow, 
The  young  firs  stand  with  eager  hands  below, 
And  catch  the  yellow  dropping  leaves,  and  hold 
Them  fast,  as  if  they  thought  them  dropping  gold; 
But  fairy  gold  they  '11  find  them  on  the  morrow, 
When  their  possessing  joy  shall  turn  to  sorrow. 

Now  thro'  the  mottled  trunks,  beneath  the  bougl 
I  see  the  terrace,  and  the  lower  rows 
Of  windows  drinking  in  the  waking  air; 
While  future  Freshmen  stand  around  and  stare. 


POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  1880 


tat 


N„.  ).  l-^  '^'  '""  *="'  »''<'"  wy  happy  .train 
Fo,    ^r'"  ?:'"""'»■  ''"'f  '"  »  vague  pain. 
For  you  I  undertake  my  rhyme  again 
Last  week  in  it!)  first  youth  saw  you  begin 
TuVu^T^  three-years-  course  with  usf  and  win 
The  highest  honours,  half  of  which  are  due 
To  your  own  strength  of  brain,  and  half  accrue 

En,  in  '  7',"  "■•*""  ^""^  *''°«  hands  you  ca^e 
Equ  pped  to  wn.  and  win  yourself  a  name. 
;But  I,— I  have  but  one  quick-slipping  year 
To  spend  amid  these  rooms  and  ficSf  dear, 
Where  from  «!-?h"  ""''  '°TK«  '°°''  ">=«  walls 
An'd^aSt^t^S  ?n  r  rS;^"''  "-"^  ""'• 
Not  knowing  which  way  lies  the  paih  for  me 

rin'J        i  """,'  ^  80  ?    Thick  smoke  is  curled 

vtX  ""k**  '^^  ^'^''  ''"'  "f»  "^  ""le  space 
Further  ahead,  and  shows  to  me  the  fa«- 
Distorted,  dim,  and  glamorous-of  Life- 
With  many  ways,  all  cheerless  ways,  and  rife 
With  bristling  toils  crowned  with  no  fittrng  fruit  - 
AU  songless  ways  whose  goals  are  bare  and  mu  e 
But  ««,  path  leads  out  from  my  very  feet  _    "'*• 
IS'  m/jhrrVii '"''■'"'"  ""=•  ''•'''^h  is  sweet. 
Mv  rMi5^     i°'l'"!'  L''  """hinketh  then 
I^LeH    T  r**  '  ''u'Shtest  dreams  would  come  again 
Th.™  •     ^"°''  *''*'''  '^'"="  'here,  and  I  'd  find 
1  hem  meeting  me,  or  hastening  up  behind 

Tho.Ti"*'  "  """'"'';  ^'"^y  »'"8ht  and  clear, 
Though  over  stony  places  here  and  there- 
Up  steep  ascents,  thro'  bitter  obstacles. 
But  interspersed  with  glorious  secret  dells - 
And  vocal  with  rich  promise  of  delight,      ' 
And  ever  brightening  with  an  inward  light 
That  soothes  and  blesses  all  the  ways  that  lie 
In  reach  of  its  soft  light  and  harmony 
Thi'^"^'j"?  P^"?  '"^•^^  f°'  "y  following, 

Ind  thoZh  .h*°'''  ^""^  "'"S-  """^  '^"'■^  ^"d  sing; 
And  though  the  songs  were  cryings  now  and  then 


II 


ttl  POEMS  WRITTEN  BEFORE  1880 

Of  me  thus  singing  in  the  midst  of  men, — 
Where  some  are  weary,  some  are  weeping,  some 
Are  hungering  for  joys  that  never  come; 
And  some  drive  on  before  a  bitter  fate 
That  bends  not  to  their  prayers  importunate; 
Where  some  say  God  is  deaf  and  hears  not  now, 
And  speaks  not  now,  some  that  He  is  not  now. 
Nor  ever  was,  and  these  in  fancied  power 
See  not  the  mighty  workings  of  each  hour. 
Or,  seeing,  read  them  wrong.     Though  now  and  thet 
My  songs  were  waitings  from  the  midst  of  men. 
Yet  would  I  deem  that  it  were  ever  best 
To  sing  them  out  of  weariness  to  rest; 
Yet  would  I  cheer  them,  sharing  in  their  ills, 
Weaving  them  dreams  of  waves,  and  skies,  and  hills 
Yet  would  I  sing  of  Peace,  and  Hope,  and  Truth, 
Till  softly  o'er  my  song  should  beam  the  youth,— 
The  morning  of  the  world.     Ah,  yes,  there  hath 
The  goal  been  planted  all  along  that  path; 
And  as  the  swallow  were  my  heart  as  free. 
Might  I  but  hope  that  path  belonged  to  me. 

1  've  prated  so,  I  scarce  know  what  I  've  said. 
But  you  '11  not  think  me  to  have  lost  the  thread, 
Seeing  I  had  none.     Do  not  say  I  've  kept 
My  promises  too  ai^ply,  and  o'erleapt 
A  letter's  bounds;  nor  harshly  criticise; 
But  miss  the  spots  and  blots  with  lenient  eyes. 
Scan  not  its  outer,  but  its  inner  part; 
'T  was  not  the  head  composed  it,  but  the  heart. 


THB  aND 


te; 
t  now, 

ttOW, 

w  and  then 
men, 


Us, 

,  and  hills; 

1  Truth, 

rOUtb, — 

ehath 


re  said, 
bread. 

It 


syes. 
heart. 


